Captivated
by Ragged Claws
Summary: "Whose side do you think I'm on, Granger? I think you're forgetting that we're at war here, and you are my captive..." What if Hermione never escaped from Malfoy Manor? A Dramione fic featuring the Malfoys, Bellatrix, and Voldemort. Slightly AU. Everyone is slightly OOC to varying degrees. Hurt/Comfort. Bits of silliness and immaturity.
1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

Time was traveling so slowly. Painfully, agonisingly, slowly. Hermione felt the strong, graceful hand of Lucius Malfoy close around her ankle and jerk her away from her friends, felt Ron's sweaty hand slip from her frantic grasp, saw Bellatrix Lestrange's knife pierce Dobby's lithe, pillow-cased form as the vortex closed shut with a pop. There was a thud as Hermione's taut body landed hard onto the floor, her teeth coming together with a sickening crunch, her knees smarting. She felt Lucius dig his immaculate fingernails sharply into her ankle and drag her roughly towards him. Hermione groaned as he forcibly flipped her over. Bellatrix swiftly zoomed in and dug her roughly-bitten nails cruelly into the fresh wound that was her handiwork on Hermione's arm: 'Mudblood'.

"The Dark Lord is on his way," Lucius panted nervously, addressing Bellatrix but keeping his pale eyes on Hermione's frightened ones, "He's going to be furious that we missed out on Pott—"

"We got the Mudblood, though, no matter!" Bellatrix shrieked, panting too and peering excitedly at Hermione, "Perhaps when he's had a poke around that filthy little head of hers, we'll know where the Half-blood is…"

Lucius eyed her and slightly released his grip on Hermione, appearing uncertain. He swallowed and turned his gaze back to Hermione, not really seeing her but the apprehension written clearly on his aristocratic face, "But what if she doesn't know anything else…" he stared at Hermione anxiously, "What if Potter never—"

"Oh, once she's had a taste of our Lord's magic," interrupted Bellatrix, addressing Hermione directly with a sadistic smile and digging her nails in more deeply until she drew fresh blood, "What is it he always says? I think you'll find he can be very persuasive, my love."

Hermione barely had time to breathe her way slowly through the pain before she heard a loud smashing noise that was wood against plaster and realised that Voldemort himself had just made his way roughly through the two large ornate doors to the chilly, well-decorated room. Hermione couldn't help but look at him as he swept over purposely, his robes billowing. She remembered that Draco and his mother Narcissa were still in the room and saw that they were huddled together in one of the corners, both with their eyes to the cold marble floor. This was the first opportunity Hermione had really had to properly see what Voldemort looked like; she had seen him for a split second when she and Harry had jumped out the window of Bathilda Bagshot's home when that horrid giant serpent, Nagini (whom she supposed was his pet) had called her Master to come and capture The-Boy-Who-Lived (and his Mudblood friend, Hermione supposedly), and she had seen him for a moment from behind at the Ministry the night that Sirius was killed. She looked upon Voldemort's deathly white and serpentine face properly for the first time and saw it narrow and contort with RAGE that Harry Potter was not there, saw the flattened nostrils of that nightmarish lack of a nose flare, heard the ear-splitting screams as those grotesque white spindly arms flexed powerfully as he sent Cruciatius curse after Cruciatius spiralling at all of her captors, including Draco and Narcissa, and watched him pant with unsatisfied anger as he surveyed the damage and finally turned those piercing red eyes to her… Then she remembered why she, Harry and Ron were journeying together in the first place…

...and then in the razor-sharp second that the sickening realisation came that she and her friends were looking for HORCRUXES entered her mind, she saw it immediately reflected back to her in those glinting red eyes, so like jewelled mirrors… that sickening realisation, that fear, was only in Voldemort's eyes for a moment until it shattered, exploding into fires from the depths of Hell...

He did not take those horrible eyes off her as he snarled to his Death Eaters, "Urgent business calls me away, but you will hold the Mudblood in the dungeons until I return".  
He looked at Hermione with so much raw and desperate anger that she found herself trembling with terror as he hurriedly turned and strode out of the room.

"Harry…" Hermione choked helplessly, feeling more hopeless and afraid than she'd ever felt in her entire life.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

Bellatrix and Lucius had argued like a pair of bickering children (or in-laws, Hermione mused), after Voldemort had left. Lucius was frightfully upset that they had been punished BECAUSE BELLA HAD TOLD HIM to summon their Lord when she thought they had Potter (AND THEY DIDN'T!), and worried profusely what urgent business their Lord had to attend to. Bellatrix was shrieking with a mixture of delight and fury at having pleased her Lord for bringing him the Mudblood who had evidently sent him away on such urgent business (THANKS TO HER!), but was enraged that she had disappointed her Lord and that it was ALL LUCIUS' FAULT for summoning him.

Hermione had remained lying stationary on the floor in a semi-state of shock, breathing heavily, trying to avert her eyes from the arguing Death Eaters before finding another pair of eyes continuing to sneak looks at her. Hermione managed to capture Draco's clear grey eyes and hold them for a moment. Just for a moment. Apart from when he had looked at her when she first came to Malfoy Manor and he said he didn't recognise her, apart from when he had made hasty and anxious glances at her whilst she was being tortured by his aunt, Hermione wasn't sure but it seemed like he wanted to say something to her which she had never read in his eyes before. Usually those eyes were so piercing like his father's, so full of hatred and contempt, but as she looked at them in that moment they appeared almost to commiserate with her and the situation, as if to say, "I'm scared too."

Hermione moved her lips on instinct, beginning to say something, but before she knew it the moment was gone and Draco had turned away and was speaking quietly to his mother. Lucius and Bellatrix had finally stopped arguing – Lucius, smoothing back his long silvery blond hair in frustration, and Bellatrix resuming to bite her nails and leer over at Hermione. Hermione closed her eyes instinctively, but soon opened them again when she was forced to accept that she couldn't escape from her dire situation by shutting the world out. She hoped desperately that Harry, Ron and the others had made their way to wherever it was Dobby was taking them, resisting the persistent urge not to cry.

Bellatrix made her way carefully towards her and stood over her, sneering down at her with hands on her hips. Lucius sighed and looked thoughtfully over at Hermione.  
"Well, what we are we to do now?" Lucius asked.

Bellatrix narrowed her dark eyes at Hermione and said, "Chain her up in the dungeons, I suppose. And give her a good kick at that."

She smiled nastily at Hermione and said in a high-pitched, sing-song voice, "But we want you in good condition for the Dark Lord, don't we, my love? He'd want you to be nice and pretty for him…"

Hermione felt squeamish and squeezed her eyes together again momentarily, before hearing Lucius let out an impatient huffing sound. She reopened them and saw him roll his eyes dramatically and he drawled, "Yes, yes, Bella, we'll be careful with her. But you're forgetting the matter of fact that our dearly departed friend Wormtail's body is still lying in the dungeons…"

Bellatrix jerked towards Lucius and dropping the babyish voice for a shrill tone, "Don't look at me! I'm not cleaning that up! Your house, your mess!"

Lucius sneered at her clenching his brilliant white teeth, then strode off in a huff, long hair swishing, evidently making his way to the dungeons to clean up the 'mess' that was Peter Pettigrew. As he neared the ornate doors opposite to the ones Voldemort had come through, he called out, "Draco, bring the Mudblood, will you?"

It would not be the last time Hermione wished she could close her eyes and simply disappear, as her childhood bully made his way hesitantly over, this time unable to meet her eyes. He came to a sharp halt in front of her and stared at the floor sheepishly.  
Bellatrix scowled, reached out and slapped her nephew smartly on the shoulder, "Well, get a move on, boy! Your father said to bring the Mudblood, so bring it!"

Draco's pale face turned a delicate shade of pink as he leant down to help Hermione up, still unable to meet her eyes.

This time his aunt smacked him upside the head. He scrunched up his eyes and let out a weak, "Ow!"

"Don't help it up, you moron! Make it stand and follow you! Where else has it got to go?"  
Before Draco could reopen his eyes, Hermione was already attempting to stand despite her aching body, as she knew Bellatrix was right and a small part of her did not wish to prolong Draco's suffering. That same small part of her felt sorry for Draco, who now seemed too mortified to even look in her direction, as she slowly staggered to her feet, groaning in pain. The effort of standing left her breathless; she looked at Draco expectantly, panting, waiting for her next command.

When Draco didn't appear to know what to do next, Bellatrix pulled out her wand and shot a curse him, "I SAID MOVE IT, BOY!" Bellatrix roared, her dark eyes flashing.

As Draco too started to groan in pain, Narcissa (whom Hermione had briefly forgotten about - she was so silent in all her silverly form) firmly told her sister that she was not to use magic on her son as punishment, and to put her wand away 'this instant!' Bellatrix begrudgingly complied and sighed petulantly, giving Draco a gentler shove. He finally looked at Hermione, appearing humiliated, and with a slight nod of his head beckoned her to follow him.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

Hermione and Draco's journey to the dungeons took much longer than they both expected. Hermione found herself unable to walk a few steps without stumbling or having to stop to catch her breath. Although Draco waited patiently for her, he bit his lip and several times looked as if he wanted to help her, if only to speed up the process, because the fact that he found it excruciatingly awkward and embarrassingly was written all over his face.

That face had resumed the delicate pink shade and was beaded with sweat; Draco's usually immaculate silvery blond hair was tousled, and Hermione noted a fine tremor coming over his entire form. At the very least, Bellatrix and Narcissa had gone off together to another part of the mansion, so the two were not bothered by his aunt's bullying. But Hermione couldn't help wondering if Bellatrix's irksome presence might not have been preferable, if only to alleviate some of the awkwardness that both classmates found at being trapped together in a desperate and unlikely situation.

Finally, Hermione couldn't bear it any longer, and decided that it couldn't hurt if she tried to talk to him. It took a lot of mental encouragement from herself to even open her mouth, but she managed to get out a very choked, "Draco…?"

Draco was so startled by Hermione speaking his name it was as if somebody had jerked his limbs violently on lengths of string. He froze and did not turn around to face her, a lifeless marionette too fearful and uncertain to make the next move of his own volition. Hermione tried to swallow but found her mouth was dry. She waited for several painstaking moments for him to reply to her, but he did not move.

"Draco?" she called again quietly, more hopefully.

This time he did not jump, but she heard him take a very sharp inhalation of breath. She knew he had heard her, but again, she surmised that he was unsure of what to do. They stood at a standstill for several moments more, both their hearts beating in desperation, before Draco finally acted...

And continued walking as if he had not heard her at all.

Hermione watched him trudge slowly away and felt like screaming. Why was he not acknowledging her? He HAD TO acknowledge her! He simply HAD TO! When had he ever NOT gone out of his way to acknowledge her, to tease and torture her cruelly for her very existence? It had always seemed like he had made it his sole mission in life to make Hermione Granger's existence as miserable and as loathsome as possible, and NOW he was ignoring her? NOW he was walking away from her? NOW he was pretending that she didn't even exist?

Hermione felt herself fuming with rage. She was so angry she wished badly for her wand, so she might aim a hex at that arrogant blond head! He had always done his very best to make her and her friends' time at Hogwarts unbearable, but he had gone out of his way ESPECIALLY to target her, to humiliate her, to make her feel ashamed of who she was and of even being there in the first place! He had never shown any hesitancy in his entire life to sling mud at her! Mud! How he loved to come up uncomfortably close to her, look her in the eyes and call her a 'Mudblood'! But she and her friends had been captured by Draco's family and now that cowardly little bastard couldn't so much as even look in her direction! She felt like crying as she remembered him sneaking glances at her when Bellatrix was torturing her and after Voldemort had left. How he had locked eyes with her and seemed to share with her that he too was afraid. But most of all, how he had looked her in the eyes and told his family that he did not recognise her…

She thought she had finally come together with him by meeting the fear in his eyes with her own. She had dared to hope, to dream, that there was some very small part of him that might care for her, that might not be as bad as he always given her reason to believe, that somewhere in his shrivelled little black heart there was some good. But as he continued to walk away from her, blond head bent, eyes downcast, she quickly extinguished that wretched hope and realised that maybe somehow all of his actions were ultimately only for his own good, as they always had been...

…And it was foolish to think that they might have ever been for hers, when he had always hated her with a passion.

Hermione began to cry silently, her tears softly hitting the marbled floor, as she slowly followed her childhood bully down into the dungeons; her body aching and her heart crumbling as she numbly followed Draco into what could be nothing but Hell.


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

The next few days passed by in a blur of tears and emptiness. After Draco had finally led her all the way back down to the dungeons, passing a very tired and irritable Lucius, who by that time was finally levitating Peter Pettigrew's limp and lifeless body back up the stairs.

"I couldn't get that blasted silver hand the Dark Lord gave him off from around his throat," Lucius muttered more to himself as Draco passed, looking slightly sick as Wormtail's blackened face floated disturbingly, the price he had paid to do one good deed to Harry wrenched tightly and horribly around his purplish throat. Hermione only looked for a moment before staring back down at the floor. She had mixed feelings about Wormtail. Part of her was grateful that he had finally found it in his heart to do one last good thing for the boy he had cheated of his mother and father. Really, he had saved all their lives (well, perhaps not hers, but the intention was there) and sacrificed his own. But the other part of her thought sadly that the reality was if Wormtail had not known his Master had set a trap to punish him lest he ever betray him, she doubted whether Wormtail would have made the same choice, if he wouldn't still have held Harry up like a lamb for slaughter to save his own skin. Still, she found herself making a silent prayer of thanks for him, and a hope that he found peace - after such a torturous ordeal as being Voldemort's slave and the Weasleys' rat for thirteen gruelling years. It was the first time she could remember praying since she was a child.

Draco had ushered her into the same cell she had been in previously and locked the door magically with another wand that didn't belong to him, as Harry had taken his. She noted the slight bit of discomfort and trouble he had with it, as it was not his own; Harry had won the light, springy, elegant wand with unicorn hair that had been Draco's and left its old Master with another wand, smaller and far less flexible, that seemed awkward and clumsy in his fine hands. Still, it achieved its purpose despite him looking disappointedly at it for several moments before he seemed to notice that Hermione was staring at him. His face flushed pink again, and he hastily turned away without a word, pocketing the wand and hurrying away back up the stairs, leaving Hermione alone in the cold and darkness.

There Hermione stayed for those few days, reluctant to eat despite being proffered food by Narcissa, who treaded silently and gracefully down the stairs, her beautiful long hair making her appear a silverly haze to Hermione. Narcissa was not unkind to her, and Hermione noted that what she was being given had likely come off her own table. She wondered why Narcissa would care what the stupid little Mudblood had to eat, but ultimately decided that even if she were prejudiced, she was a proper and gracious host in all her good and well-bred upbringing.

Bellatrix came to verbally poke and prod at her several times, although Hermione was not sure if were morning or evening, it being so dark and empty down there. However, Bellatrix soon grew tired of jeering at Hermione, as her Master had forbidden her to physically harm her. Hermione thought that perhaps Bellatrix was also one who liked to perform her depraved acts of cruelty in front of an audience and seeing as she could not have access to her beloved Cruciatus curse nor an audience she evidently lost interest in torturing Hermione. Seeming such an attention-seeking, envious type, Hermione also privately began to wonder if Bellatrix did not like the idea of her Master having Hermione 'all to himself', as Bellatrix frequently put it as she warned Hermione of her Master's coming. She seemed jealous: not so much that she was not allowed to 'join in the fun' of torturing Hermione, as Bellatrix put it herself, but more so that her Master was going to be giving Hermione some serious attention when he returned, which Hermione surmised Bellatrix abhorred the very idea of. Hermione had naturally and aptly put two-and-two together, what with Bellatrix beginning to harp on about how 'ugly' and 'filthy' and 'distasteful' her Master would find 'the Mudblood', despite how she teased cruelly earlier that he would want her to 'look pretty' for him, whatever that meant. From this she gathered that Bellatrix was infatuated with her Master but did want to begin to fathom about what Voldemort would do with their time together when he had her 'all to himself'...

Hermione didn't know much about Voldemort, but from everything Harry had told her about him, she seriously hoped that this insecurity of Bellatrix's was all in her frazzled head and that what she had hinted at was really not Voldemort's style, a man who seemed to be actively trying to distance himself from his humanity in every way possible… Harry had said that Snape had insisted that Voldemort liked to torture his victims by infiltrating their minds and creating visions inside of them designed to send them spiralling into madness, not unlike the one he had put in Harry's mind about Sirius to lure him into the Department of Mysteries.

Hermione didn't know which she thought would be worse, and down in the darkness amidst thoughts of her lost friends and family, she found herself hoping that if escape was impossible that Voldemort would kill her quickly and be done with it, lest she accidentally give him too much information and endanger her loved ones. She decided that in the meantime the best thing to do was be as silent and obedient as possible, to ensure her safety whilst she looked for a very good opportunity to escape. She sincerely hoped that Harry and Ron or any of the others would not risk their lives in trying to free her. She would rather be tortured or die protecting information than risk anyone's safety. She made a silent pact with herself that she would sacrifice her life for her loved ones if it was necessary.

One morning, or afternoon, or evening, or whatever time of day it was down there in that cold room as numb and hollow as her heart, she heard footsteps she did not recognise as neither Bellatrix or Narcissa's. For a dreadful and breathless moment her heart stopped and feared that it was Voldemort, come to make her pay dearly for what she and her friends had done with the jagged pieces of his godforsaken soul he called Horcruxes, but thankfully, it was only Draco. She found herself sighing with relief but still preferred not to look at him as he stepped hesitantly over to her cell. He came to halt outside of it and did not speak. So, he was going to play that game again, was he? Despite feeling a persistent, heavy and unanswerable anxiety for what was next, Hermione finally grew tired, and sighing, asked him wearily, "What do you want?"

She peered up at him and saw that instead of that familiar shade of pink, this time he looked deathly pale, almost as pale and ghostly as his silvery blond hair. He was carrying a silver basin of what appeared to be water in both hands and hanging out of his left one was a very expensive looking white hand towel. She looked at him with confusion before he finally spoke directly to her, the first time he had since their sixth year at Hogwarts, when his last words had been cutting and cruel. His words this time were small and quiet and trembling, but well-rehearsed as if he had practiced them over and over in his head before he'd come down to her:

"The Dark Lord approaches. He will be here in the next half hour or so. He plans to meet with you directly. He has advised me to tell you that he has a number of very important things he would like to discuss with you. He also requested that…"  
He stopped for a moment and a peculiar expression crossed his pale countenance. Hermione didn't know what to make of it as he stared directly into her eyes, distinctly expressing some sort of emotion she had never seen in their pale depths before. He licked his lips, which looked cracked, nervously and hastily continued, dropping his eyes to floor.

"He… He requested that… He requested that you wash your face and hands before you are honoured with his presence. He wishes you to know that you are… already… filthy enough… without having to expect him to lower himself to meet you when you are also physically unclean…"

Hermione's stomach lurched and she began to cry quietly and angrily. But Draco was not finished:

"The Dark Lord… He… He knows how much enjoyment I get out of bullying you for being a Mudblood, and… he hoped that I find some amusement in humiliating you like this…" he said in a hurry, voice trembling, "just like at school…"

By this time Hermione wished the ground would swallow her. But as she cried and began to tremble in terror herself that Voldemort himself was shortly coming to interrogate her (and Merlin knew what he would do to her!), it did not escape her notice that Draco did not find any of this particularly amusing at all. In fact, he seemed rather humiliated himself, as if he too wished he could be swallowed whole by the dirty ground.

Hermione's pain turned to rage as she thought about all those years Draco had relentlessly taunted her and made her life so unhappy, and now the Dark Lord himself must have found all her hurt and shame very entertaining as it was now being used as sport, to reward his newest and evidently faithful servant… But somehow it only seemed to be a punishment to Draco, unless that was what it was intended to be, as he was clearly not getting any pleasure out of it. Hermione shook her head and again felt like screaming at Draco. He certainly must have found all his cruelty towards her enjoyable if Voldemort had stooped down to such a childish level to put him up to this!

Jerking her head up angrily, she was about to open her mouth to say something but shortly found herself meeting the gaze of a tall, cloaked figure with a face as white and waxen as a candle, glaring at her with seething red eyes from behind Draco.

It seemed Voldemort himself had arrived early and had in fact probably been standing somewhere nearby the entire time, camouflaged with some complex spell, watching with a wry smile etched across his lipless face.

"Yes, you are correct, I've been here the whole time, Miss Granger," Voldemort said quietly, in his unusual, cold voice, toying with his wand. Hermione felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up, and imagined that the same thing happened to Draco, who appeared mortified.

"I think it's time you and I become better acquainted, as I'm sure you already know there a few… delicate… little things I'd like to discuss with you… But first," he swept closer, coming up beside Draco and beckoning with his long, spidery white hand to the silver bowl, "You are going to make yourself presentable for me, Miss Granger…"

Draco made as if to put down the bowl on the ground but Voldemort stopped him, touching him lightly on the forearm with his wand, "You will stay until I say you can leave, Draco," he said curtly, "Now, help your classmate to cleanse herself; after all, it was you who was the first one to tell her she was dirty," he smiled.


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

Hermione had never felt so humiliated in her life. She was about to be made to wash herself clean of all of her 'Mudblood filth' by none other than her childhood bully and the fractured soul of the man who was the biggest bully the Wizarding World had ever seen. Hermione urged herself to be brave and look into the eyes of the man who had created so much pain and misery, destroyed so many lives, including the lives of so many she loved… Including her own life! And here she stood before him now: notorious for being the darkest and most powerful wizard of all time but really nothing more than another childish bully. He seemed to be enjoying humiliating Draco as much as her and it made her feel sick.

Hermione finally found the courage to at least look him into those horrible red eyes, but no words would come out of her mouth.

"There's plenty of time for chitchat later, my dear. But first things first – Draco help Miss Granger to ready herself for me…"

Draco turned a brighter shade of red and swallowed, this time staring at Hermione, almost pleadingly. Hermione longed to disobey, but realised that if he wasn't able to fulfil his Master's request Voldemort might punish him. Or kill them both. And it seemed a stupid thing to risk so much over. Reluctantly, she resolved to put aside her pride and help him and make to this easier for everyone, but she couldn't help remembering how she had tried to speak to Draco days earlier and he had ignored her. At the very thought of it, she had the sudden urge to reach through the bars and upturn the basin of water on his stupid blond head. As soon as this thought crossed her mind she heard Voldemort chuckle, and glanced fearfully at him… before hastily turning away as she saw the self-satisfied smile on his waxen face.

"Yes, Miss Granger, I can hear your thoughts very clearly. I'll explain why shortly. But I'm afraid I'm becoming impatient. We'll observe the niceties first, shall we?

He traced the tip of his wand up Draco's shoulder and pointed it at his neck, "Hurry up now, Draco... I tire of waiting..."

He looked at Hermione and pressed the tip of his wand into Draco's neck threateningly, "All we're asking Miss Granger is to show good manners and respect by washing her face and hands before meeting Lord Voldemort… You don't want me to request that she remove her clothes too so she can wash the Mudblood filth off her body too… do you…?"

He smiled nastily as Draco turned a brilliant shade of red and passed Hermione the basin and towel. She hastily splashed water over her face and hands, rubbing at her face and letting her fresh tears wash it clean too. Then she quickly handed Draco the basin back and tabbed her face dry, trying to blink back her tears.

Whatever she felt now, it was beyond humiliation.

She heard Voldemort chuckle, "No, I didn't think you were ready for that kind of excitement, Draco."

Draco was so red now she thought he might catch on fire.

Voldemort removed his wand swiftly from Draco's neck and said, "Now that the niceties have been observed, I think it's time you and I had a little chat, Miss Granger. I'm sure you have so much to tell me... You may leave, Draco. And make sure the door is closed on your way out."

And without another glance at Hermione, Draco quickly took everything and hurried out of the room, literally hanging his head in shame.

And leaving Hermione alone with Voldemort.

She felt defiled as he studied her closely without saying a word a first, twiddling his wand between his fingers. She urged herself to look up at his awful deathly face again and meet his hellish red gaze. He was truly awful to look at, and she felt...  
"Repulsed. You find me frightening, don't you?"

Hermione gasped. It had happened too many times now. He clearly hadn't been lying that he would read her thoughts so easily! She had heard he was a very accomplished legilimens, but he didn't even seem to be invading her mind at all, she wondered...

"How I'm doing it? I told you I would tell you."

He took a step closer and Hermione found herself taking a step back.

"It's much easier with you, you see, Miss Granger. Much easier. Severus Snape, your old Potions Master, had told me all about how all too easy it was to read your mind, particularly when you were in his classes. He said your thoughts were so loud, he would practically hear you blurt out the answer to one his questions before you'd even raised your hand, which must have been an amazing feat, truly, because your hand would shoot up faster than a Muggle gun firing," he chuckled, "So insolent… No, he said it was never even necessary to penetrate your thick Mudblood head... everything he wanted to know, you already told him…"

Hermione felt her heart pound and her stomach drop as Voldemort took another step closer, smiling horribly, and she realised she couldn't take much more steps backwards or she'd be pressed against...

"The wall, I hope," he laughed.

Hermione turned red and tried not to cry any more – she didn't want to cry in front of this dreadful, heartless, disgusting abomination of a man - but she was unable to stop herself. She suddenly found her voice and choked out, "Why?"

Voldemort took one last step forward until he was leaning lazily against the bars of the cage.

"Because, Miss Granger, your thoughts aren't just inside of your head like most other witches and wizards. Because you are a Mudblood, they also project outward from your mind. To a skilled legilimens attempting to probe your mind, it is almost as if you are speaking aloud. There is minimal effort involved. Your thoughts are so loud... You really are just like a muggle..."

Hermione started to cry more as his red eyes bore into her with amusement.

"Yes, Yes, Miss Granger, that's right. Your Potions Master heard so many interesting things over the years… Oh the things he's told me..."

"You're lying!" she found herself spitting out.

Voldemort looked mock aghast, "Oh dear, what makes you say that?"

"Because my thoughts can't project outwards from my head. Even a muggle's can't.

That's impossible. There's obviously another explanation."

"Which is?"

"You're just trying to humiliate me again. I may be a Mudblood, but I'm not stupid."

Voldemort peered at her thoughtfully and said, "Perhaps you are correct on several points. But I'm curious to hear your explanation. Go on..."

Hermione clenched her teeth angrily. He was really nothing more than just a bully. And here he was wanting her to stroke his ego. She sighed and admitted, "Because you're an exceptionally talented legilimens. Even more talented than someone like Snape who could read minds easily. More talented than Dumbledore was even. You are so practiced that to you my mind must be as easy to read if I were projecting my thoughts outward for you to hear. No effort is involved."

His horrible smile grew even wider. He looked very pleased with himself as he replied, "Good girl! Ten points to Gryffindor for your very informative and flattering answer. And I'll give you another ten points if you can tell me why am I asking you this."

Hermione's voice shook as she forced herself to say quietly, "Because... because there is no point in someone like me trying to hide anything from you. Because according to you and to Snape, I already have an usually loud and vulnerable mind…"

Her heart sank and more tears came, "And no matter how hard I try to hide something, eventually you will find it..."

"That's right, Miss Granger. I'll award you those points you so desperately love to earn... But I think we both know the answer to this next—"

"No, I'm not a skilled occlumens; I've never learnt it all," Hermione interrupted, before remembering that she was not in class answering questions and she was in fact being interrogated by Lord Voldemort.

Voldemort closed his eyes momentarily with a peculiar expression on his face. She soon realised it was a gleeful expression as he said cruelly, "I'm afraid you didn't raise your hand, Miss Granger. I think speaking out of turn to Lord Voldemort has just landed your first punishment... CRUCIO!"

There was only darkness next. Darkness and terror. Darkness and terror and agony. Suffocating darkness and horrific terror and burning agony. Burning like fire. Like acid. Oh, gods, make it stop. And the violent sound of someone screaming. Into eternity.

When it finally stopped, Hermione awoke on the floor panting, finding Voldemort standing over her. She soon realised that it had been she who was screaming – Bellatrix's Cruciatus seemed like a jolly good time in comparison to her Master's. And she next realised that he now inside of the cell with her. He looked so tall and skeletal in the dim light, his white face cracking with a garish smile. He was standing so close to her she could have reached out and touched him.

"You may kiss my feet if you like... Hermione. Think we've gotten closely acquainted enough now to be on first name terms?"

Before Hermione could stop herself, she choked out, "You evidently believe so, so I will call you Tom…"

"CRUCIO!"

Darkness. Terror. Burning.

Darkness. Terror. Burning.

Darkness. Terror. Burning.

All of my skin is melting away.

Somebody is tearing my skin off.

Someone is screaming who is screaming who is screaming who is screaming I can't stand that awful sound tell her to stop please make it stop make it stop make it stop please please please I'll do anything.

"You will call me 'My Lord'. You will never use that name in my presence again."

Hermione opened her eyes suddenly and saw Voldemort's red eyes burning directly into hers, his face sickeningly, frightfully close, close enough to…

"I don't think we're that well acquainted, Hermione." He chuckled, "but you seem to be under the impression that you know me well enough to go searching with your filthy little friends for some things that are very precious, very personal and very private to me..."

She now realised that he was suspending her in mid-air with his outstretched wand; she floated eye-level with him, those red eyes burning into her, that awful face coming closer and making her skin crawl…

She could feel his surprisingly warm breath on her face as he whispered dangerously, "Care to tell me about that, Hermione? Hmm?"

Despite herself, Hermione found herself wishing now that he would just kill her. Kill her and be done with it. At least she would die protecting her friends.

"There's plenty of time for that later," he said quietly - deathly quietly, "But first, you will tell me what you were doing with my Horcruxes..."


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

"I am a merciful Lord, Hermione. And I will make your death as quick and as painless as possible if you will just make it easier for both of us and tell me everything. About my Horcruxes. About everything Dumbledore told you. And most importantly of all, absolutely everything you possibly can about our dear friend, Harry Potter..."

Hermione's mouth was dry. As were her eyes. Even tears wouldn't come. Her first desperate thought went to her poor parents in Australia before she could even help herself.

"Ah, thank you for that little valuable piece of information, Hermione. I will certainly keep that in mind… But you see how easy it is for me to take what I want? There really is no point in trying to resist me. Now be a good girl and tell me some more. I promise again that I will be merciful…"

Hermione felt as if she was going to faint in mid-air. She wasn't even sure if that was possible.

"Come on, dear girl. I can certainly make things harder for you… if that's what you want..."

He sighed, as if mocking disappointment.

Oh, how Hermione wished she would just faint.

Just die.

How had Harry put up with this horrific creature throughout all these years?

"Yes, our friend Harry is very brave, dear boy. Very brave and very foolish. But I was told by Severus that you were very clever, Hermione… surely you don't want to prolong your suffering…? Admittedly, it might make things far more amusing for me. I was only thinking yesterday what I planned to do with you once I've enjoyed every last bit of you..."

Please kill just kill me. Please just kill me. I can't do this anymore. Please just kill me.

"Oh no, I'm not sure if I should be the one to kill you, when there are others who might be more deserving of this feat. Others who have earned it by having to put up with you being such an… insufferable know-it-all… for all of these years. In fact, I was actually thinking about giving the scraps to Severus. I have been meaning to reward him since he disposed of that old fool Dumbledore for me. And your old Potions Master has always been rather… fond… of you," Voldemort smiled lecherously, red eyes glinting.

Finally, the tears came again. Hermione started to shiver uncontrollably. Wishing she would die.

Voldemort laughed and said, "Yes, that's right. Snape's the only teacher you've ever wanted to impress so badly. Well, this may be your chance, my dear,"

It seemed he got immense satisfaction out of making Hermione feel sick and disgusted. All she could see was his horrible face, all she could feel was his horrible breath…

"Or, our young friend Draco could use a bit of... practice? Don't you think? He is my pupil, and I am under the impression that he is rather... fond... of you too... very much in fact… Unlike your Potions Master, he has certainly given you a lot of attention over the years... An unusual amount, wouldn't you say? Why do you think that is Hermione?"

She hung motionless in mid-air, clenching her eyes tightly shut, hesitating a moment to answer. Why was he doing this? Why did he keep taunting her about Draco?

"He hates me," Hermione finally sobbed.

"And why do you think that is?" he smiled.

"Because I'm a Mudblood…"

"Ah yes, I think your being a Mudblood comes into it, but not for the reasons you might initially think. Now, use that clever little head of yours and tell me precisely why he hates you... no, 'resents you' is a perhaps a better word... for being a Mudblood?"

Hermione stopped breathing and felt as if she might vomit as Voldemort peered at her questioningly. Could it be true? Really? Is that why he didn't tell his family that he recognised her? Was that the look she had seen in his eyes? But... He hated her! He HATED her…

Didn't he?

Hermione could feel Voldemort's warm breath on her face quickening excitedly as she asked nervously, "Why are you telling me this?"

"Truth will out, Hermione. But aside from that, I think it's time he squashed this silly little infatuation for you and accepted you for what you really are… as he so aptly put it, a 'filthy little Mudblood'. And I just thought it might make it all the more... thrilling, for both of you, if you knew how he felt before he claimed his prize... And disposed of it… What do you think?"

Hermione felt the overwhelming urge to run but Voldemort's magic kept her frozen in mid-air, hanging lifeless like a marionette. His face was too close for comfort. If snakes could smile this is what they would look like.

Grotesque.

"I was once very handsome, believe it or not," Voldemort chuckled, and brought his wand close to her face.

"I do have a third option for you, if you are obedient. As I told you, I am a merciful Lord, and since you and your friends have shown such a great interest and effort into finding and destroying several of my horcruxes, I was thinking of making another, and I thought it might be fitting allow you the great privilege of being used as a sacrifice to make it... but I haven't quiet chosen a fitting receptacle yet..."

He pressed the tip of his wand into her cheek.

"Or perhaps I could use your virgin's blood to make me handsome and youthful again... But then again, it is so dirty that I wonder if I might just end up looking even uglier than I am now? But still… Whichever it will be will not just depend on how obedient you are, but how much you entertain me..."

He pressed his wand in so hard and deeply into her cheek that she cried out.

"You see, just being this close to you and listening to your thoughts as we've been talking has already been very... illuminating for me... so I will know if you fail to tell me something, my dear, and I will punish or reward you fittingly. I must admit I can't decide what I am most looking forward to. You lying or you telling the truth..."

He pushed his wand into her cheek so hard she cried out. He made a strange hissing noise, gnashing his pointed teeth into a hungry smile, a dangerous smile, a smile that made Hermione remember how deadly Voldemort was, and how she had been stupid enough to ever think she could cross him and get away with it. He was the most powerful wizard in the world and she was…

"Nothing but a STUPID. LITTLE. GIRL. And whether you be a good girl or a bad girl, Hermione, I might just end up choosing all four of these options… Yes, I will make use of you, Hermione Granger! CRUCIO!"


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

Hermione wasn't sure how long Voldemort had tortured her for, extracting every last bit of information he could find. She had never known such pain or terror had existed, and she had never felt such crippling shame, as it felt like he pushed his horrible, spidery long fingers into her skull and scrummaged around, pressing and poking painfully, slimily, sickeningly… Invading every part of her mind that was private until it felt like he had defiled everything, torn everything dear to her to shreds.

She felt raped. Especially as she remembered glimpses of his sick, twisted smile; his high, cold sadistic laughter, as he pried over every single little thing, so childishly and so cruelly. Nothing was safe from him. Oh, how'd he laughed as he saw her memories of her first evening at Hogwarts, how she'd been petrified that she would never be as good as her classmates because she was Muggleborn... how hilarious he'd found it that she had resolved to do her best, to be the best she possibly could at everything, EVERYTHING, so no one could see how small and incapable and helpless she had felt. And when the slightest thought had come across her mind that HE TOO must have felt the same, being a half-blood raised in a Muggle orphanage and having not the slightest inkling that there was a magical world until Dumbledore had showed up that fateful day, he had given her pain and suffering beyond her wildest imagination…

And when he saw how hard she had tried to make friends and failed miserably, so caught up in all her bookishness and perfection that she had ended up pushing everyone away, a loner in a magical world she did not belong in, he had laughed so cruelly… until the thought crossed her mind that HE TOO must have felt the same way, how could he not have? HE TOO was human… And he punished her and punished her and punished her until finally he pried into other things that he himself was not as WEAK and PATHETIC in…

All of her girlish fancies. Lockhart smiling his pearly white smile and Voldemort laughing with his sharp yellow fangs. Hermione giggling at Percy. Kissing Viktor. Dreaming of Ron. Being chased by Cormack. Oh gods, even listening to Snape's voice! And worst of all, feeling the blush creep on her cheeks as Draco put his handsome, elegant face close to hers and called her a Mudblood…

Voldemort cackled with mirth. Especially when she remembered how ugly she was and thought how no one would ever want her.

But then the thought betrayed her that HE was ugly too, so ugly in fact that no one in their right mind would want him! Only a complete lunatic like Bellatrix Lestrange could find HIM attractive now!

Pain and pain and more pain.

He made her remember exactly how ugly she was. As she walked proudly down the steps to the Yule Ball, the prettiest she had ever looked, how ugly and cheap and dirty he made her feel. Especially as she remembered how Draco had gasped, with nothing to say for once… Yes, she thought she understood why now.

Snape telling her that he saw 'no difference' when Malfoy had hexed her front teeth to grow like an over-sized beaver's. (Laughter and more laughter from Voldemort. Gods, he was completely immature!)

Turning into a Millicent Bulstrode's cat outside of the Chamber of Secrets and being teased by Moaning Myrtle. (How Voldemort had DETESTED Myrtle, so much that she had been his first victim, but now she was apparently hilarious when she teased HIDEOUS Hermione).

LOCKHART AND THE VALENTINE'S DAY CARD. (She hoped for a moment that Voldemort's blackened heart would burst, he had laughed so hard.)

Oh, Merlin, NOOO.

And he laughed and he laughed as she screamed and she screamed and she begged and she begged for death.  
Finally, she had awoken much later, sprawled in a pain and breathing shallowly on the cold cobblestone floor of the dungeons, locked tightly away in her cell. Groaning she managed to crane her neck around and saw that thankfully, gratefully, he appeared to be gone.

For now.

He hadn't finished with her yet, and he had made sure to tell her he had only been given a taste of what he was capable of, and she dreaded when he'd return. He'd managed to get so much out of her that she was ashamed of herself. She had told him everything, EVERYTHING, and he had still insisted that she was not finished and there was more to tell.

But after he had desecrated her mind, she wasn't sure there was anything to tell ever again.

It felt like he had broken it apart.

And she had never seen someone enjoy themselves as much as he seemed to in her life.

To the point that he actually seemed aroused.

Voldemort was a sadist.

Truly.

And how he had looked at her was disgusting.

He made her skin crawl.

He made her feel like she was naked.

And filthy.

Dirty.

Mudblood.

She had cried too much these past few days.

There was nothing left to cry.

She just lay flat on her back, unbearably tired, unable to think about anything but death.

It was all over.

It was finished.

With what information she had given him, all there was left for Harry to do was hide.

She had failed Harry.

She had failed Ron.

She had failed all her friends.

She had failed her parents.

She had failed everyone

And most of all, she had failed herself.

Voldemort was going to win.

In fact, as far she was concerned, he might as well have already won.

For one last time, she prayed that the earth would swallow her whole, for Voldemort was right: the magical world was not for her. She did not belong.

She was just a silly little girl.

A silly little Mudblood.

Still, she couldn't cry, as she drowned in her hopelessness.  
She closed her eyes and hoped to die…

…But she soon opened them again as she heard light footsteps patter down the stairs.

Draco's footsteps…

Too tired to move or care, she remained lying on the floor, as cold and dead as a corpse.

She closed her eyes again as she heard Draco walk hesitantly over. She sensed him stand outside the bars for a few moments, before he spoke, trembling, "Granger? Are… are you awake?"

Hermione inhaled sharply, which hurt her ribcage dreadfully.  
"Yes," she answered lifelessly.

There was another pregnant pause as she thought she heard Draco swallow.

"Our Lord… he… Our Lord has requested that you accompany me to one of the Manor's bathrooms. He wishes for you to bathe. He says that after all of the fun you've had together, he imagines that you must be in need of a good wash and…"

Draco took a sharp inhalation himself. Hermione opened her eyes slightly to see him staring at the floor, wishing he was dead, "and he said that since it is me who thinks you are a filthy little Mudblood, he wants me to ensure that you make yourself clean…"

Hermione heard Draco make a strange strangled noise and realised he was trying – and failing – not to cry. He hastily turned his head to shield his tears from her as he hurriedly jerked open the door with his wand and beckoned to her, unable to look at her…

"C-come with me, M-mudblood,"

Draco had to turn away from her at this. She heard him trying to stifle his sobs. His entire body was shaking.

She began to wonder what Voldemort was doing to Draco to ensure that he was following his orders. She recalled how Harry had heard that Draco had been ordered by Voldemort to kill Dumbledore, how Harry had watched Dumbledore try to talk Draco out of the awful deed, how Dumbledore had offered Draco and his family protection, and how Draco had rejected it…

…Because Draco had said that Voldemort was going to kill his family. More specifically, his mother, and Hermione wondered if that was what was happening now. She thought of Narcissa in all her silvery beauty and realised that apart from loyalty, there really was nothing she could offer to Lord Voldemort, possessing no talent nor power he would find useful. Draco on the other hand, was perhaps his youngest follower, and a gifted and intelligent wizard, easily one of the most capable students at Hogwarts after herself. Though she had bested him in every class and his father had made sure he had known it, he had often come a close second to her, particularly in Charms and Potions, so close that it enraged him and his family that the Mudblood denied him the rightful place they believed he was entitled to by his pure blood… Beaten by a Muggleborn, always second-place to Hermione Granger…

But still, to the Dark Lord he had everything. The right blood. The right name. The right potential. So easy to train and mould into whatever he wanted, the leader of a new generation of followers…

But now Hermione didn't know what to feel for him as she watched him tremble.

She hated him. And part of her felt she deserved what he got. But she pitied him. And part of her wanted to help him. And then there was that new part of her that had been awakened when he'd told his family he didn't recognise her, and had been torn to the surface by Voldemort himself, who had claimed that Draco had another reason for showing so much interest in her…

Yes. He liked to bully her because she was a Mudblood and he believed she did not belong in his world.

Yes. He was terribly jealous of her because she was a better student than he, felt she denied him his rightful place at the top of the class, copped flak from his parents for being beaten by a Mudblood, despite his pure blood and his fine family name.

And yes, she was best friends with Harry Potter, his arch enemy.

But was there really more to it?

When she thought about, he *did* pay an unusual amount of attention to her, even for a bully…

In fact, he had gone so out of his way to bully her over the years, that he almost seemed… fascinated… with her…

It was always Granger this, and Granger that… He talked about her constantly… Made fun of her constantly… Every single bloody day, to every single person he met, every time he happened to see her coming he went out of his way to tease her, and he seemed to get so much enjoyment out of it, so much in fact that he almost seemed…

Obsessed.

Almost like she was the reason he got up in the morning.

But.

He thought she was ugly, didn't he?

But then she remembered Voldemort's shrill, immature laughter as he watched Draco gape like a fish at her at the Yule Ball…

But… But…

He couldn't.

She was a Mudblood.

She was a filthy little Mudblood.

He told her over and over and over…

Trying to convince her that she was beneath him.

That she was worthless.

That she was nothing.

Over and over and over.

As if he was trying to convince himself…

And not her.

She closed her eyes and tried to remember that peculiar look in his eyes when he had denied he'd known her, when his aunt had tortured her, after his father had managed to capture her when Harry and the others had gotten away, when Voldemort had humiliated her in front of him...

What was that look?

What did it mean?

She thought it had meant that he was afraid too, as if he had hoped she would save him.

But she realised now, that it was the other way around.

That he wished he could save her.

And take her far, far away.

To a place where there was no Dark Lord.

And no Mudbloods.

Where none of this had ever existed.

Because she realised now that when Draco Malfoy had always come up so uncomfortably close to her and looked at her with hatred and anger in his eyes, that hatred and anger was not because she was a Mudblood.

It was because she was a Mudblood he could never have her.

And he could not save her now.


	8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

Hermione's newfound understanding about her childhood bully had come as a shock, and although she still couldn't be one hundred percent sure that this wasn't one of Voldemort's nasty tricks, when she weighed up the evidence it appeared to explain so many things and thus was a very likely possibility. As she considered it in her head, although it made her feel slightly uncomfortable and uncertain, a new feeling began to arise in her as her mind began to work furiously at the potential prospects of this new and valuable piece of information. This could quite possibly be the answer to her prayers, or lead her to her greatest doom, but still, that feeling began to burn within her, small and flickering and bright:

Hope.

"Draco…" Hermione called weakly.

She watched as his trembling stopped suddenly. She saw him hastily wipe away his face and make a sniffling sound, but he did not answer her.

Not this again. He had just talked to her a few minutes ago. And he was supposed to be taking her for a bath at the request of Lord Voldemort, so he couldn't very well ignore her now, could he?

As if he came to this realisation himself, Draco straightened himself up and sighing said quietly, "We're going now, Mudblood. You will follow me."

And with that, he took a few steps forward, but when she did not get up immediately, he stopped and waited for her for several moments. When she did not move any further, he said again nervously, "Come on now, Granger. I said you will follow me."

Hermione sighed weakly and made to move, but everything was sore and aching from her encounter with Voldemort.  
She struggled for a moment in vain, and then decided to try her luck, "I think this time you might have to help me up, Draco. I'm hurt."

He shuffled around awkwardly for a moment, before asking uncomfortably, "If I help you to stand, do you think you'll be able to walk?"

Hermione breathed heavily from the exertion of trying to move and said, "I'm not sure. But I'll try."

Draco pulled out the wand that was not his own and pointed it at Hermione, but looking sheepish again, seemed to think better of it, and slid it back into his pocket. He reluctantly made his way over to her and stood over her awkwardly. A bit of the old Draco seemed to cross his pink face as he scowled, "Thanks to Potter, I'm going to have to do this manually. I'm having a bit of trouble with my mother's wand since he stole mine from me, so if I still end up hurting you, you can blame him."

Hermione stared at him for a moment before realising something else. Even though she was his Master's prisoner, he was going out of his way to make her trip to the bathroom as painless as possible.

As if he read her mind – but he obviously didn't, thought Hermione flatly – his face turned redder and his scowl deepened.

"Our Lord said that I'm not to harm you, or I normally wouldn't lower myself to touch you."

Hermione huffed and immediately let out a cry of pain as the movement hurt her ribs. She still managed to get out, "Back to your old self again, I see. Two minutes ago, you were crying and you actually seemed like a decent human being for once in your life!"

"I was NOT crying!" he argued, raising his voice; she couldn't decide if he looked more insulted or ashamed.

Hermione made to argue but he interrupted her hastily.  
"Stop talking to me, Mudblood! Do you want me to help you up or not?"

Hermione glared at him angrily. So, this was how it was going to be? Just like at school, apparently, now that he'd seemed to have gotten over his embarrassment around her. And to think she even listened to Voldemort for a second and thought that this person had feelings for her… He didn't even like her! HE HATED HER! Voldemort just must be lying, trying to lure her into sort of sick game. She really couldn't believe for how horrible and serious and dangerous Voldemort was, he was also so childish and immature and bored that he actually thought things like this were funny! And he probably would find it very amusing that she was gullible enough to believe him. Draco Malfoy liking the Mudblood Hermione Granger? Ha!

Draco screwed up his face, looking redder than ever, and muttered irritably, "Would you STOP staring at me and get up already? I haven't got all bloody day!"

"Quit standing around and help me up then!" Hermione shot back.

"I told you to STOP talking to me, Mudblood! You will NOT speak to me unless you are spoken to!"

"Why!?"

Draco groaned and bent over a little, reaching out his hand awkwardly, "Would you just SHUT UP and let me help you up? In case you have failed to notice, I don't like this situation any more than you do!"

Hermione reluctantly started to reach up her hand, but stopped, thinking for a moment.

"Why don't you like it?" she asked quietly, "I have been captured and tortured by your Master, and now I'm lying at your feet in pain, which is according to you, my rightful place as a Mudblood."

He jerked his hand away suddenly as if he'd been stung. She looked carefully at his eyes and thought she saw that look again, only just for a moment.

But then he snarled at her this time and said, "I couldn't care less what happens to you, Mudblood! I just don't like that I have to be stuck in this situation with YOU of all people!"

Hermione knew he was lying this time. Even if he truly didn't give a damn about her, she knew he cared very much about his family. She felt pity for him once more, but it was swiftly extinguished when he said cruelly, "The sooner he's killed you the better. I despise you, Granger."

Hermione scrutinised his gaze. She could decipher nothing but anger. But as she made to sit again and reached out her hand towards him sadly, she thought she saw a flicker of something else in his eyes as his hand flinched. It shook slightly for a moment before he sighed, and kneeling, put his arm around her and placed his other hand gingerly in hers, and started to help her up.

She noted that his touch was warm and gentle, and very unsure - the most comforting thing she had felt in days in this cold and dismal place. A part of her wanted to cry and lay her head on his shoulder; he was the only thing, the only person that was familiar to her in this nightmare, and even though he was her childhood bully who had made her life a misery, and claimed to detest her, he reminded of her old life, which seemed so far away now, just a bittersweet dream.

She wondered if he was thinking the same thing as he carefully helped her up. She cried out in pain a few times, and she noted that he always stopped and made sure she had caught her breath before continuing. As he leaned in closer to her at one point, she could hear him breathing, feel his warm breath on her cheek, such a stark contrast to Voldemort's rancid breath that made her skin crawl, when with him his aftershave smelled sort of sweet and heady and musty… And she found herself blushing as thought of fresh parchment and books and wondered dimly if he liked to read. She had sometimes seen him alone in the library when he was not with his minion friend, peering over a book and lost in thought.  
As they were finally finished, which took a few minutes, Hermione noted that his hands lingered a bit longer than necessary, one gently on her waist and the other clasped in her own. He looked her in the eyes for a moment, standing roughly a head taller than her, his face up close to hers; he hastily jerked his hands away from her after a moment though and still looking her in the eyes, drawled, "Well, Mudblood. That was a particularly unsavoury experience. I would go and vomit now, but I'm to take you for a bath. Which I daresay you desperately need after smelling you up close,"

Hermione gaped, appalled.

"In fact," he continued, smiling nastily, "I'll daresay I'll need one too, after touching you and your filth!"

Hermione felt the rage build so quickly inside of her, that she couldn't control what came out of her mouth next:

"I know how much you're simply dying to have a bath with me, Draco, but I'm not sure your family would approve!"

This time Draco gaped stupidly, his face burning so red he looked as if he were about explode.

"Never mind, Draco. I'm sure you'll still get a chance to watch me take off my clothes! I *did* hear Voldemort mention how much of an excitement that would be for you. Is that why he's organised this for you now, as a reward?"

Draco looked so infuriated that nothing would come out of his mouth. He continued to gape at her, and then actually bared at his teeth at her he was scowling in such rage, that finally he just trudged off without looking back at her.

When she did not follow, he began to speak and murmured slowly in pure, unadulterated rage, "Don't you… EVER… speak to me… again… like that… You filthy… little… Mudblood…"

"I'll say whatever—"

"SHUT UP!"

"No, I won't-"

"SHUUUT UUUP!"

"IF YOU THINK-"

He swerved around suddenly, tearing out his wand and panting heavily, his eyes wide and fearful.

"Don't you see!?"

Hermione looked at him, feeling afraid of him for the first and only time since she had been 13 years old and he had stridden up to her in the Quidditch pitch, looked her in the eyes and first called her a Mudblood.

At the sight of that same fear in her eyes, he sighed in frustration and lowered his wand, and slid it back into his pocket. He beckoned with his head for her to follow him, and as he walked slowly away, she thought she heard him mutter very, very quietly, barely perceptible:

"He'll kill us all."


	9. Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE

It was a lot harder going up the stairs out of the dungeons than down them. Hermione struggled wearily, breathless and in pain. Eventually Draco was forced to accept that he would have to help her again.

But this time he didn't say a word to her as he hesitantly neared her, carefully putting one of her arms around his shoulders, and one of his arms around her waist. Instinctually she leant on his shoulder and he recoiled slightly at first, before allowing her to let him to bear some of her weight as they trudged slowly up the stairs together.

Hermione couldn't help but smell that heady scent again that reminded of her fresh parchment. She also couldn't help but notice how warm he felt, how strong and lean, but gentle. Strands of his white blond hair tickled her face softly. She wondered if this was the most comfort she would ever feel again in her life, leaning into the arms of the young man who had made her childhood a living hell.

Still, she mentally kicked herself as she felt a deep emptiness when he eventually pulled away as they reached the top of the stairs. Again, she noted that his reactions seemed a bit delayed as he appeared to take a bit longer than necessary to pull away. She supposed he could just be making sure that she didn't fall – perhaps that was the reason why he so did last time, only to make sure she was steady. But somehow, she doubted it. Human touch was human touch. Maybe some unconscious part of him found it comforting too, whether he harboured secret feelings for her or not.

"Can you walk from here?" Draco asked, startling Hermione as her reverie sharply dissolved.

Hermione swallowed and said, "Honestly, Draco, I'm really not sure. He kept kicking me and kicking me so hard… I suspect he's broken my ribs."

Draco looked at her thoughtfully. Again, she noticed that look in his eyes... She Still wasn't sure what it meant or how many more times she would see it.

"He made us swear not to harm you," he said finally, "If I leave you the way you are only more harm will come to you if I try to move you. I don't trust myself to levitate you with this wand – I might drop you. And he hasn't expressly forbidden healing you, but still..."

He peered at her nervously, trying to figure out what to do.  
"You won't be able to follow orders if we leave you like this..." he muttered, sounding as if he was trying to convince himself, "And you're making it very difficult for _me_ to carry out my orders..."

Draco looked at her hopefully, pushing his hair back anxiously, as if they were in class and she knew the answer.  
But for once she didn't.

"I think I'll have to ask my mother," he finally resolved, "And besides, I think I'll only do more harm than good if I try to mend you myself with her wand. It's much better that she do it..."

He took he wand out and twiddled it, grimacing.  
"Only problem is, she's not here. No one is except you and I… and his horrible great snake, Nagini…" he shuddered, "They've gone out… with him..."

He started to pace back and forth for a moment and looked as if for a moment he wished he could just leave her alone and forget that she was his captive. He ran his hands through his hair in frustration as he stared at her as if she could provide the answer.

"And he wants this done before he gets back. I really should have thought about this before I moved you. I should have asked mother to do something before she left… I'm just going to have to do it myself and I hope I don't hurt you any more…" he said worriedly, uncertain about making up his mind to help her.

He pulled out the wand slowly and pointed it at her, anxiety written clearly across his pale face.

"The incantation Is 'episkey'. The movement you made to make is a—" Hermione started.

"I KNOW what the spell is, Granger!" he snapped, "You're such a know-it-all, even now! I just really don't want to hurt you more than you already are! I don't know if I trust myself to do this! This wand really doesn't understand me..."

He gritted his teeth together in desperation.

"Why did I bring you up the bloody stairs...? Why didn't I think to ask mother before she left…?" he moaned.

"Why don't you just try it? What's the worst that could happen?" asked Hermione, growing impatient. At this point she was in so much agony that if there was any chance he could make her feel better, she would beg for it.

"Are you mad!? Don't you remember what happened when flaming Potter broke his arm at my first Quidditch match, and that pompous git Lockhart tried to mend it and it went all wonky!?"

"That's because he took all the bones out, silly! He used a completely different spell!"

Draco's anxious frown turned into a gleeful smile as he said, "Well, of course you'd defend him, wouldn't you, Mudblood? Always had a thing for old Lockhart and his perfect white teeth. And speaking of teeth… Didn't you say you say your parents do some weirdo muggle thing where they tend to people's teeth? It that why you liked him? Got a thing for teeth, eh?"

"Yes, they're dentists… How did you remember that? And just for the record, I did NOT have a thing for Lockhart, and I do NOT have a thing for teeth," she spat with embarrassed anger.  
He didn't answer her question and said, "I can see why you had a thing for teeth when yours were so hideous. Shame they couldn't fix those oversized buckteeth of yours, Granger..."

"Ha!" Hermione scoffed, "in case you haven't noticed, they're all fixed now!"

"Yeah, thanks to me! What your pathetic muggle parents couldn't fix in 15 years I fixed in two minutes!"

Hermione felt like reaching out and slapping his stupid blond head.

"YOU didn't fix my teeth, you obnoxious prat! YOU ruined them even more by making them enormous and Madam Pomfrey was the one who had to fix them!"

Draco stared to laugh at Hermione's reddening face and said, "Do you remember what Snape said when he saw them?"  
Hermione scowled as Draco did an uncannily accurate imitation of their options master: "I… see… no difference..."  
Draco continued to laugh like the obnoxious prat he was as Hermione's face grew redder. Merlin how she wished for her wand to wipe that smile off his stupid face!

Finally, he stopped laughing and smiled, making a show of displaying HIS perfect white teeth and said, "Well, like I said, Granger, you have me to thank for that…"

Hermione continued to glare at him as he peered at grinning, before his smile slowly started to evaporate and was replaced with a frown, as he remembered their present situation.

Hermione had an idea at this point, but she doubted that Draco would allow it.

"You could always... let me try?" she asked uncertainly.  
Draco furrowed his brow seriously and said, "Do you really think I'm that stupid, Granger?"

"No... it's just... there's nowhere for me to go anyway... and if you stayed close by... I just know I could save us a lot of time and effort, and myself a lot of pain, if you just quickly let me fix it."

Draco sighed and looked at her, quite tempted, "Don't think it hasn't crossed my mind... But if you get a hold of my wand, Granger, I'll be defenceless... You could hurt me! Hurt my family... You might even end up escaping! The Dark Lord would be furious..."

"Then you just try and fix it!" she argued.

"No, what if end up doing something like breaking the bones even more or making them heal funny?"

He looked at her carefully and seemed to be thinking of something.

"Can two people use a wand at once?" he suddenly asked.  
Hermione shook her head, puzzled, "I'm really not sure, Draco... I've never heard of it… I thought the wand chose the wizard, chose allegiances… But I suppose you and your mother are both using the same wand so it must show an alliance to you both, even if you say that it doesn't 'understand' you…"

She looked him puzzled, mulling it over as he watched hopefully.

"So.. in theory... if it showed an allegiance to two people, with one more predominant than the other… I mean… It's possible… I really don't know... We'd just have to try it and see what happens… I guess that worst that can happen is that it won't respond me…"

Draco nodded and taking another sigh said, "That's what I was thinking. It can't hurt to try."

He bit his lip and made his way over to Hermione slowly, stopping only when he was less than a foot away from her. He looked at her apprehensively and said, "Why don't we try it, then? Just remember that I'm a lot stronger than you are, so I doubt you'll be able to take it from me, especially in your state..."

Again, he sounded as if he was almost trying to convince himself.

"I'm warning you, Granger, you better not try to steal my wand... and if you try any funny business or think you can escape, like I said, Nagini is close by and she may not be able to hear, but feels every single little vibration through the floor... And trust me when I say that she can have her Master here in no time at all..." he threatened anxiously.

Hermione shook her head again, making it clear to him that she wouldn't, and swallowed as he moved closer to her, holding out his wand and pointing it at her ribcage. He stopped when the only thing between them was the wand, and looked at her with uncertainty.

Again, Hermione caught sight of that look. Just for a second.  
"Maybe you should put your hand above mine on the wand and try and cast," he said, looking down at her nervously.  
Hermione complied and gingerly put her hand above his, closing it around the smooth wand.

He bit his lip thoughtfully for a moment, then hesitantly put his hand on top of hers, turning a bit pink again.

Hermione thought how ridiculous this looked, like something out a sickly muggle romance movie and felt herself going red too as she cast the spell.


	10. Chapter 10

CHAPTER TEN

As Hermione and Draco walked slowly through the large, elegant hallways of Malfoy Manor, neither spoke. Although the thought of Hermione escaping certainly crossed both of their minds, the truth was that Hermione didn't feel that she had learnt enough about her surroundings to even attempt an escape at this point, even though she had been given a seemingly ideal opportunity of being alone with Draco, who could only defend himself with a wand that didn't understand him.

Well, they were visibly alone, anyway. Draco had said that Voldemort's snake – which she now supposed must have been like a familiar to him; like Harry, Voldemort too could speak parseltongue – was slithering about somewhere, and the very thought of her made Hermione feel squeamish. She had never liked snakes much (especially after being petrified by a Basilisk), but after already having met Nagini literally possessing the body of Bathilda Bagshot in Godric's Hollow, being very nearly devoured by her, and having witnessed the speed at which she was able to call her Master (who had almost got her and Harry that time, violently snatching at and narrowly missing her hair as she and Harry jumped out the window… (but she still fell into the clutches of those slimy, long spidery hands anyways) Hermione didn't feel too confident about her chances.

Nevertheless, Draco kept his wand out and held it against Hermione just to be safe, as Hermione trudged sadly, but curiously, throughout Draco's home. She had always wondered where he had spent his Summer holidays when his father was head of the governing board at Hogwarts and was evidently so ridiculously wealthy that he could probably literally roll in mountains of galleons and treasures at Gringotts. Despite its grandeur and opulence, though, Hermione couldn't help but note how cold and empty it felt. An only child like herself, Draco had had its many rooms and hallways and grounds all to himself, all the toys and games in the world that money could buy, and even a house-elf called Dobby (at the thought of him, she wondered regretfully if he had survived Bellatrix's dagger after all) that he apparently liked to bully just as much as her (which the thought of her made her feel indignant, as she remembered her futile efforts with SPEW, which Draco had certainly laughed at). He had everything he had ever wanted and was obviously spoiled rotten, but she couldn't help wondering if he had been lonely. Hermione had always thought of Draco as a rather introverted person like herself; there was likely some part of him that liked to be alone, but she wondered what he had done to pass the time, and how many empty hours he had spent wandering the corridors in silence.

Just as Draco finally spoke and said, "We're nearly there," Hermione heard a strange, sickening, spine-tingly noise…  
…Like skin being peeled back from the bone.

She shuddered as the noise got closer and closer and it reminded her second year at Hogwarts, just before she was petrified and she had heard the Basilisk slide with the same slimy, sickening sound around the corner. Nagini's reputation preceded her as the great snake slid into view, letting out a long, drawn out hiss, like air being released slowly from a Muggle tyre. Hermione froze and even Draco looked very uncomfortable as the snake continued to slither past. Although she hadn't raised her head, Nagini evidently knew they were there as she slid down the corridor, long and sleek and deathly beautiful.

Hermione thought strongly of Voldemort and shuddered as she watched his familiar slither away. Like himself, there was something about her that was almost hypnotic... Not just slimy, but sensual. Something frightening and carnal and raw… But enticing… Alluring… She felt sick thinking about it as Nagini headed around a corner and disappeared out of sight. All she could think about the whole time was Voldemort's awful face, so like a snake himself in appearance, that was so vivid in her mind it was as if he was watching her with his slimy, sickening smile.

Slimy and sickening were the words.

Even in her stomach, it felt like snakes were slithering around when she thought of Voldemort.

Tom Riddle, the heir of Slytherin and Master of the Basilisk.

The once handsome boy who had grown into the repulsive man with the face of a snake which matched his slimy, sickening, seven-times severed soul.

Ugh.

As she turned to look at Draco, she saw that his face had grown paler, as if he too felt the same slimy, sickening sensation in his stomach at the very thought of his Master.

After several moments, Draco collected himself and ushered her forward with his wand. Finally, they reached another large, ornate set of double doors that opened into the bathroom. As Draco pushed open the doors, Hermione gasped. It was even bigger and more luxuriant than the Prefect's bathroom at Hogwarts. It looked like the Malfoys had a bath nearly the size of a Muggle Olympic swimming pool in this room, and she wondered if the room had an extension charm on it to make it bigger, or if Malfoy Manor was really that big.

She also wondered if this was the only bathroom they had, which she asked Draco aloud.

"No, this is just a guest bathroom," said Draco quietly, "We've got a least at least fifteen more."

Hermione gasped and said, "So, are you saying you've got bigger ones than this?"

Draco shrugged and said, "Well, not necessarily bigger. Just more decorated, or with more features, I supposed. My one, for instance…"

But he cut himself off and looked at her, appearing unsettled, "Never mind about that, Granger. I've brought you here on orders. The Dark Lord said you're to have a bath."  
Hermione turned and looked at him hesitantly, biting her lip. He started to turn pink again as she asked the obvious question, "And what will you be doing whilst I have one?"

"Guarding you, obviously," Draco snapped, not looking at her.

"Why is he doing this?" Hermione asked anxiously, "Why does he want you to be here when I do this? Why is he even making me do this at all?"

Draco refused to look at her, but said quietly, "You heard him."

"Yes, of course I heard him! The thing about you calling me a Mudblood! I get it! But why? Why he is doing this? It's so unbelievably child-"

"Do not EVER question Lord Voldemort!" Draco interrupted, very frustrated, "It doesn't pay to question him and besides, you shouldn't have the insolence to! He has his own reasons for things, and they are beyond our concern! Just do what he says!"

"Yes, but…" Hermione was flustered, "There must be some reason why… some game he is playing… it might help-"

Suddenly Draco grabbed her arm and pulled her roughly towards him. It gave her such a fright that she began to tremble as he whispered to her, "Whose side do you think I'm on, Granger? I think you're forgetting that we're at war here, and you are my captive..."

Hermione felt frightened as she said, "Yes, but-"

"There are no buts, Granger," Draco said even more quietly, "I think you're forgetting you're dealing with Lord Voldemort here, and trust me, he finds everything out sooner or later… If I were you, I would obey him and remember your place as a Mudblood… Which is at his feet…"

As he stared into her eyes, she could see fear in them as well as anger. She wondered then if her even talking to Draco like this might get him into trouble. And remembered that Voldemort was particularly gifted at reading minds…

But then another part of her wondered if this wasn't intentional on Voldemort's part and he wanted them to talk…. And for her to have a bath in front of Draco. What seemed like it was just an immature punishment for his youngest pupil was beginning to look like it might actually be some sort of test… For her or for Draco or both, she wasn't sure…

But she was unable to extinguish the reality that this was an easy way to see where Draco's loyalties lay. As well as how he would react in this particularly delicate situation if all Voldemort had said about him having feelings for her were true…

And then came the uncomfortable possibility that this in fact was a reward for Draco.

Voldemort had threatened to give her to Draco as a gift once he had finished with her, after all. And although at first, she thought it was just some sadistic joke to play on her, the more it seemed plausible that Voldemort was not joking and that, like he often bragged, he was gracious Lord who kept his word…

What if it was true and Draco wasn't even aware of it yet?  
…What if Voldemort wanted to see how Draco would react just to gauge whether… she… would be a fitting reward for him?  
Hermione felt very uncomfortable and anxious, suddenly, as she realised that Draco's hand was still clutched firmly around her arm. She felt herself grow hot again as he looked at her closely and said, "Enough of this now. I think it's time you had a bath."

Slowly he released her and looked at her awkwardly.

Hermione blushed and said, "Please don't tell me he said you have to watch me undress…"

Draco looked sheepish again at this and he said, "No... He didn't specifically say I had to do that. He just said that I must keep an eye on you. I'll just go and a little stand over there with my back turned, and once you're in I can turn back around, I guess…"

He looked very uncomfortable as he said more seriously, "But honestly, Granger, you better not take too long. If you're not done in ten seconds I'm just going to have to turn around anyway. Ten seconds. That's it and that's final. I can't risk you getting away..."

Hermione instantly objected, red and scowling, "Only ten seconds!? Are you serious!? Despite fixing my ribs, did it occur to you that I'm still sore and in pain from being tortured for hours by Lord Voldemort, as well as your horrid aunt only a week or so ago? Don't you think that it might take me a bit longer than ten seconds to get undressed!?"

"Twenty then!" he shot back.

"Twenty!? That's barely anything! Do you really have to make this more embarrassing and awkward and difficult than it already is!?"

They glared at each other for several moments before Draco finally said dangerously.

"You know what, Granger. I certainly can make this even more embarrassing and awkward and difficult than it already is. How about I don't turn around at all and just watch you take your clothes off?"

She gaped at him in horror.

"That's what the Dark Lord wanted, after all. I was showing you mercy by allowing you some dignity and privacy in me turning around."

Hermione felt her blood boiling and couldn't stop the words as they tore through her mouth savagely:

"You mean that's what YOU wanted, Draco! Why else would your Master give you such a specific order? He's only going to keep me alive because I'm going to be a reward for you, aren't I?"

Draco looked so furious she started to feel frightened of him again. It seemed she had hit the nail on the head.

"And you're going to be the one to 'dispose' of me, aren't you?" she demanded.

He just stared at her, too enraged and shaking to answer.  
"Why is he giving me as a reward to you, Draco? Why me, of all people?"

Draco appeared so angry he looked as if he was about to scream.

But instead of doing that, he shot over to her and grabbed her forearms, pulling roughly her towards him, which made her cry out in pain.

She looked into his eyes and saw that through the anger there were tears pressing at the corner of his eyes. His mouth was trembling as he looked at her, that peculiar look coming over his face again.

"Wha… What… What are you doing?" Hermione stuttered, afraid of these strong emotions that had come over him so suddenly and so deeply. His grip on her was uncomfortably tight this time, and unrelenting.

As she looked into his eyes up close, she saw the emotion clearly now, strong and true. She was sure it said that he wished that she could save him, that he wished he could save her, and she looked deeper and deeper he leant forward again like he done at the top of the stairs to the dungeons...

"Draco…? What are you doing…?" she said once again timidly, feeling a burning heat coming over her as her heart felt like it was about to tear its way out of her shuddering chest.

His face was so close.

Too close.

He looked at her breathlessly, tears starting to fall as he said in a tortured voice:

"Claiming my prize."

And with that he leant forward and kissed her parted lips.


	11. Chapter 11

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Hermione found herself instinctually pulling away at first, as his lips touched hers. But as she felt their softness and warmth against her own, the shock that her childhood bully was kissing her dissolved, as did everything else in the world.

All her fear and all her pain dissolved as a burning, tingling heat spread over her. She found herself kissing him back fervently, and the heat intensified as he placed his hands around her waist and brought her softly to the floor, refusing to let his mouth leave her own. As they fell into a heap on the cold marble, she found herself reaching up and running her hands through his white-blond hair. It was fine and silky and, as she felt his lips caress her own, she breathed in that heady scent of parchment and felt intoxicated.

She felt him stroke her face with one of his hands and then slowly trace it down her neck caressingly. It felt ticklish and as she shuddered, she kissed him deeper and deeper until it made her head spin, until she found herself enveloped in such intense heat that she started to want more.

It seemed he wanted more too, as his hand traced lower and lower until...

Draco suddenly pulled away sharply, panting and looking horrified.

Hermione tried to catch her breath as she looked carefully at the young man she had just been kissing, confused. Had she really just made out with Draco Malfoy? On the floor of his guest bathroom? When she was a prisoner of Lord Voldemort who had ordered his young pupil to make her bathe because she was a filthy little Mudblood?

And then she remembered Voldemort.

Voldemort could read minds.

So well, in fact, that he had a reputation for being perhaps the most accomplished legilimens in the Wizarding World.  
And he had already forcefully demonstrated that he required very little effort to read hers.

What had they done!?

Draco stared at her with a desperate and tortured look on his stark white face, seemingly unable to vocalise how he was feeling. The two just stared each other in horror for what seemed like an eternity.

Hermione finally spoke, and asked awkwardly, "Why… why did you kiss me?"

Draco just looked at her in distress, not knowing what say.  
She decided to answer for him:

"You like me, don't you?"

Draco appeared even more distressed at this, but still did not speak.

"You've always liked me, haven't you?" Hermione asked, even though she could see the answer clearly written on his face.

"I... I just..." he began.

"You just what?"

A look of pure agony came into his eyes as he suddenly pushed himself off the floor and stood up, looking down at her despondently.

"Nothing," he said quietly and flatly, "I was just following orders."

Hermione felt as if he had stabbed her. She narrowed her eyes, picking herself hastily off the floor and cried, very wounded, "You really expect me to believe that? Your Master told me that you were to have me after he was finished with me. Not before."

"What the Dark Lord has ordered me to do is none of your concern, Mudblood."

He gritted his teeth and glared at her. She glared back, feeling unbelievably shattered and hurt.

"So, you're back to calling me Mudblood again? Are you just going to completely deny what just happened between us?"  
"Nothing happened between us, Mudblood," Draco said angrily, "Like I told you, I was just claiming my prize."

Hermione didn't think before slapping him across the face. Although she hit him so hard that she left a horrid red mark on his pale skin, he didn't flinch nor cry out. He just gritted his teeth harder and sneered at her.

"The Dark Lord has ordered that you have a bath. I'm going to turn around now and give you to the count of ten to undress and get into the water."

Hermione gaped at him, aghast.

"That's right, Mudblood. Since you were insolent enough to hit my face for the second and LAST time in your life, you can forget about what I offered earlier with twenty seconds. You certainly seem well enough to do so if you have the cheek to attack your superiors."

"So that's how it's going to be, is it?" Hermione cried furiously, her heart crushed.

She couldn't believe this. She couldn't believe it at all. She thought she had him figured out and either she had been seriously mistaken, or he was lying for some reason or other. Either way, the small flame of hope he had reignited within her had been blown out.

He reached quickly into his pocket, and pulled out his wand, pointing at her aggressively.

"Five seconds then, you jumped-up Mudblood! If you don't start obeying my orders and jump into that bath I will vanish your clothes and you can remain naked until the Dark Lord sees fit to clothe you again!"

She looked at him in horror. Why was he doing this now?

"That's right. I might not be very confident with this wand but I doubt I can do any harm to you just by using a vanishing charm. In fact, it might do you some good, as this time instead of correcting your over-sized beaver teeth, I might just vanish that insolent pride off you face. Now do as I say."

"You just want to see me naked!" she cried furiously.

"I don't actually," he stated coldly, "But Lord Voldemort definitely will, and if you don't hop into that water right now, I'm going to vanish your clothes and call him. He's always up for a bit fun..."

And with that he peeled back his sleeve and pointed his wand at the Dark Mark on his forearm.

Hermione glared at him through indignant tears as she was forced to take off her clothes in front of him, and make her way into the water, more humiliated than she had ever felt in her entire life.


	12. Chapter 12

CHAPTER TWELVE

After she had finished bathing, Draco had supplied Hermione with a plain white robe, and had taken her back down to the dungeons and locked her in her cell, with little more than a tense word or two between them. She was back to sitting on the cold, hard floor, arms hugging her knees tightly. Although at the very least now she was clean and in considerably less pain, she couldn't help feeling worse than she did before. Before, when Draco had kissed her, she had thought for the first time since she arrived that she might actually have a chance of getting out of there, a chance of a future, but his cruel and confusing actions had changed everything once again.

Of course, there was the possibility in all of this that he was really just doing this to protect himself, his family, and possibly even herself, but it was exceedingly hard to stomach when she was imprisoned in a cold, dark place by the coldest, darkest Wizard time had ever known. She felt some sick, sadistic joke was being played on her, and she didn't know whether to blame fate or whether Voldemort had carefully orchestrated all of it. And to think that she actually believed Voldemort when he had said that there was far worse to come… Apart from the torture he had already subjected her to, and the terrible threats he had made to give her to his Death Eaters once he was finished with her, she couldn't possibly imagine what he could mean by worse than THIS, except death to herself or her loved ones… She felt herself hugging her knees tighter at the mere thought of this, as well as remembering that'd he'd be returning soon, and that there was a good chance that he'd be making another visit to her if he was in need of entertainment…

She began to worry then what he would do once he learned what she and Draco had done together when he was gone. He and Draco alone would be able to tell what Draco was thinking when he had treated Hermione the way he did. She wondered fearfully whether he would punish Draco, and whether he would punish her too. For all she knew he would find it amusing or not care in the least, but since she was a Mudblood, there was a good chance that he would not be pleased that his Pureblood servant had acted so out of turn.

At the very thought of this, Hermione suddenly heard quick, deft footsteps coming down the stairs in a rhythm that was so perfect it sounded threatening. As the footsteps grew louder, she heard the swishing of material and with a sickening realisation, she knew that it was Voldemort. She made to close her eyes instinctively but thought better of it and opened them again as she watched him make his way across the main room, his cloak and perfectly timed movements giving him the appearance he was floating. He had a strange, amused look on his pallid face as he stopped outside the bars of her cage.

"How nice to see you again, Hermione. Was everything to your satisfaction when I was gone?" he eyed her curiously.

Hermione just stared. She would never get used to those horrid red eyes, especially when they were glinting maliciously like that. She was quickly getting to know Voldemort and learning that he had a knack for appearing amused, either when he was genuinely amused, or he was frightfully enraged. It was impossible to tell which was which with him; although he attempted to lure you into a false sense of security, you could never be completely certain of where you stood.

Or more bluntly, whether he would laugh at you, torture you or kill you.

She sincerely hoped there wasn't anything worse like he had teased her with…

How strange to see life as some sort of amusing game like he did…

"Yes, life can be rather amusing at times," he chuckled dryly, "But I asked you a question… I would personally consider it very rude if so humble a guest did not answer a polite question from so gracious a host, dutifully enquiring about their stay… especially when he had so gone out of his way to be hospitable and… accommodating."

Hermione frowned nervously and still did not answer. He had certainly been anything BUT 'polite' and 'gracious', but 'accommodating'? What on earth did he mean by that?

Voldemort pursed his lips (or lack thereof) and said, "Are you going to answer my question aloud, insolent girl, or do I have to continue to pluck it from your skull? I would think it would be more proper if you spoke to me instead of expecting me to go to such efforts…"

Hermione started to say, 'But I thought you liked to brag that there is no effort involved for you to read my mind!' but it died hurriedly on her lips.

Voldemort still heard it of course and smiled.

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that. You try my patience, girl. I was in a very good mood before I came down here…" he said curtly.

Hermione quickly decided not to try his patience any further and said quietly, "In answer to your question, everything was satisfactory…"

He started at her expectantly.

"…My Lord." She finished, clumsily.

He smiled wider, showing his pointed teeth and said, "Good girl. You're finally learning some respect. It's about time. But going back to what you said… was there anything, perhaps, that was a little more than, 'satisfactory', hmm?"

He narrowed his eyes and started at her quizzically, toying with his wand dangerously.

Her heart sank. So, he evidently already knew about what happened with her and Draco but wanted to hear it from her lips. Not just from her mind.

Oh gods, she hated how he was staring at her and how he could hear everything that she was thinking. It was worse than being put under a Muggle microscope… It was completely and utterly unnerving and made her skin crawl. She couldn't help but think how ugly and disturbing he looked as he smiled at her, evidently enjoying her repulsion.

"Not in a very chatty mood today, I see. Your mouth has been preoccupied with other things, I imagine..."

"Did you hurt him?" she found herself crying out suddenly.

"I am the one who is asking questions here. Your place is to answer them."

"Fine, we did, yes. I don't know why you need me to say it when you already know…"

But before he could say anything in response she said quickly, "I can't tell you anything more about it than he already has. It didn't mean anything anyway..."

Voldemort did appear to be in a good mood, because he laughed and said, "Is that the conclusion you've come to, Hermione?"

"I don't see how it's any of your business." She shot out in embarrassment before she could stop herself.

He just continued to stare at then, closely listening to her thoughts, and Hermione looked away.

"Because I am in such a good mood, I will permit you to ask me one question tonight. But because you've been such a rude guest, I'm afraid that I'm going to have to choose the question for you…"

"There's no point in me asking you a question then! Why don't you just tell me what you want to say?"

Voldemort started but she wasn't finished:

"You know, I really don't care anymore! I'm sick of your games! For a Dark Lord you really are nothing more than a schoolyard bully, you're so childish and arrogant! One would think I was talking to a twelve-year-old boy and not someone who claims to be the darkest wizard of all time!"

To her surprise, he threw his head back and started laughing. Merlin, what was wrong with this man?

"This is exactly what I mean!" Hermione cried, "I'm not downplaying the fact that you've tortured me beyond belief, but the things you tease me about are just childish! Only someone incredibly juvenile would find those things funny!"

"But I thought you liked those qualities in a man, Hermione? Have I not been catering to your tastes?"

He stopped laughing and leered at her with an expression of pure delight on his awful face.

"Begging for more, are we?"

Hermione gaped angrily, "I… I…"

Voldemort giggled and stepped closer to the bars, looking as if he was about to eat her he was so pleased.

"It so happens that I've got something for you, Hermione.

Something less… juvenile… as you might put it… No, no… he's a little older than that, I'd say…"

"He…?"

Hermione froze as she heard that horrible, familiar sound of flesh being peeled back from bone, as Nagini was evidently slithering her way down the stairs.

"Did you hurt, Draco?" she asked, suddenly terrified?  
Voldemort stepped even closer to the bars, his grin growing wider and said:

"Worried for him, are you, my dear? I can assure, I didn't harm a single one of his white-blond hairs on his Pureblood head…"

Hermione suddenly felt sick as she was about to ask who…  
But then saw for herself, as Nagini slithered in, holding in her mouth a limp, blackened corpse with flaming red hair.

"ROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!"

Hermione screamed and screamed and screamed as Voldemort just laughed and laughed and Nagini started to swallow Ron's body whole and she screamed and screamed and screamed as he was slowly being crushed down her throat, his neck pierced by her giant fangs and she kept screaming and screaming and screaming until everything went black…

And suddenly she awoke on the floor of the cell, with Voldemort standing over her. She warily looked around and saw that although Nagini was still there, she did not have a person-sized lump in her sleek form.

Hermione was trembling so much she couldn't even speak.  
"Was that much more to your liking, Hermione? Mature enough for you?"

He stepped closer to her and kicked her hard in her side, making her cry out.

"That was nothing, dear. Just a starter. I can take things even further if you like…"

Hermione started to cry as mixture of relief and horror washed over her.

"I think I'll leave it there for now. Lord Voldemort knows you've had enough… excitement for one day."

And with that he swept away, leaving her in a quivering, crying heap.


	13. Chapter 13

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Hermione just lay on the cold, floor of the dark dungeons, staring blankly at the dirty ceiling for hours. All she could think about now was Ron, Harry, her parents, everybody.

And if they were safe from him.

She felt only emptiness as she wondered if it was only a matter of time before he found them all. Especially Harry - whom he so greatly desired, so actively sought to destroy - but also her parents. She wondered if Voldemort could spare the time and effort to send one of his Death Eaters to Australia to find her mother and father. She seriously doubted he would bother to go himself (unless he had some pent-up, life-long desire to travel there and study its great variety of snake species, Hermione mused dully, seeing he was so fond of them). Perhaps that would be what ultimately saved them: the great distance away which would require the great effort of either an advanced portkey or multiple apparitions, not to mention the great trouble of finding them, in such a great, great land.

Hermione sometimes doubted that she'd ever find them again herself, because she made sure that they were bewitched to never do anything that would make them easily traceable, like putting their names in the Muggle phonebook. But since she was lying in a cold, hard cell in Malfoy Manor, waiting for what only could result in her death, she realised she would never see them again regardless, and began to cry silently.

As felt her tears roll down her face and hit the floor, she heard distant footsteps.

'Oh gods, who now?' She thought to herself, defeatedly.

But as the sound drew nearer, she recognised them as the light, graceful footsteps of Narcissa, who was probably bringing her some food and drink. As Narcissa came into the light her long silverly hair almost emitted a soft glow, it was so radiant and beautiful. Narcissa stopped carefully outside of Hermione's cell and quietly leant down, placing some refreshment gently within the bars. She then straightened up and softly murmured a spell to vanish anything that needed vanishing. After she was finished, she stood silently for a moment, peering down at Hermione through shining strands of her hair. Hermione began to wonder if she was part Veela, perhaps making her only half-sisters with Bellatrix and Andromeda who greatly resembled each other with their dark features, but looked nothing like their silvery sister.

Finally, Narcissa spoke in a slow, measured voice; quietly, solemnly, but not unkindly:

"The Dark Lord punished Draco severely tonight."

Hermione felt her heart sink and tears began to re-form in her eyes. She felt like throwing up and choked, "Is... Is he hurt?"

"He was not seriously harmed. But he will need time to rest."

Hermione began to weep and cried, "It's my fault, isn't it?"

Narcissa paused for a moment before answering and said in a trembling voice:

"I think it's better that you and Draco don't speak to each other anymore. Nothing good can come of it… For either of you… Or anyone for that matter…"

Hermione watched as glistening tears fell gently down Draco's mother's face and onto the floor.

"Please, Draco is just a boy. He may try to speak to you again, but please… I could not bear it if he came to harm… If you truly care for him, you must understand that the best thing for him is that you keep a distance from each other… Please…"

Hermione continued to cry, considering what Narcissa was asking. It was a fair request. And she was right. Nothing good could come of their talking any further. From now on she must remember that she was their prisoner, and act accordingly so. Failing to do so could only result in further punishment to him, and even his death.

As much as it pained her to know that what she was agreeing would mean that she was truly alone from here on, probably until the end of her life, she knew that she must do it. Narcissa wouldn't beg otherwise.

"I understand," Hermione choked through her tears, "I will try must my best not to speak to him and do everything I can to see that nothing I do will cause any further harm to him…"

Narcissa pulled out a lacy white handkerchief and wiped her face. She looked down at Hermione with something that looked like pity.

"Thank you," she said quietly, although the immense gratitude within those two words was very loud and clear.

She looked as if she wanted to say more for a moment, but didn't.

And Hermione realised that she couldn't as she watched her silently walking away, her shining hair swaying softly over her robes.

Hermione must have fallen asleep at some point, but she woke to find another figure sitting silently with their head against their knees, leaning against the bars of her cell. And she realised with a jump that that white blond head belonged to Draco.

Why was he here?

And more importantly, what was he going to do? Narcissa had only pleaded with her in what was probably only a few hours ago that she was not to talk to Draco anymore, lest she get him into further trouble with their Master.

She estimated the time to be possibly late night or the wee hours, when everyone else would be asleep. It seemed Draco was asleep too, breathing softly into his lap. The thought of everyone sleeping made her wonder if Voldemort slept too. She supposed he had to at some point – he was only human after all, no matter how alien he appeared physically or in personality – but had always thought of him as someone who might keep himself going on potions, only allowing himself a few hours here and there when absolutely necessary, with Nagini and countless enchantments guarding his door.  
She hoped that this was one of those times when he was asleep, or that he was at least out and about on one of his missions or entertaining himself elsewhere. She peered nervously at Draco and wondered if she should wake him and ask him to leave, or if she should try and go back to sleep – or at least pretend to – and hope he would go away of his own accord.

As the very thought crossed her mind, it seemed Draco would make up her mind for her as he suddenly slowly opened his eyes. Hermione began to tremble as she realised he not been asleep at all.

She did not know what to do.


	14. Chapter 14

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Draco turned his head and looked at Hermione warily. She saw that his eyes were red as if he had been crying.

Hermione still didn't know what to do except turn away instinctively as his clear grey eyes bore into her.

"Mother came and talked to you, didn't she?" he asked quietly.

Hermione began to panic. Narcissa had told her she was not to talk to her son. But he was asking her a direct question and she wasn't sure what would happen if she ignored him.

She really didn't know what to do.

He deliberated for a moment and said, as if answering her silent question, "She told you weren't to speak to me, didn't she?"

Hermione swallowed nervously and tried to turn her aching body the opposite way away from him.

"So, you aren't going to talk to me anymore, are you? You're just going to ignore me now…?"

Hermione struggled but managed to turn herself over on her side, panting.

"But what if I don't want you to stop talking me?"

Still she said nothing, breathing hard from the exertion.

"What if I told you that you HAVE to speak to me?"

She listened anxiously, realising that this was a possibility she hadn't thought of yet, but she still, she couldn't very well... could she?

But she would do anything, ANYTHING if it meant she might be able to protect him from harm. She would just have to ignore him, no matter how much he implored her to do otherwise.

"What if I COMMANDED you to speak to me? You are my prisoner, after all..."

Hermione closed her eyes and prayed he'd go away.

"I'm not going anywhere, Hermione, until you speak to me."

She stopped breathing at the use of her first name.

He had never called her that before.

Always Granger.

Occasionally Mudblood.

But never Hermione.

She chastised herself inwardly as she enjoyed the feel of it rolling off his tongue like a slow, warm caress on her cheek. She bit her lip, feeling her face grow red and butterflies in her stomach.

Merlin no. Please no.

"Got you listening now, haven't I?" he said quietly.

Hermione heard him get up and open the cell door as she felt a nervous heat creep over body. She was trembling as he reached her and crouched down next to her. She jumped slightly as he placed a hand gently on her shoulder.

"I want you to come with me," he spoke softly.

Hermione felt her heart start to beat hard against her chest as she broke the promise she had made to Narcissa and answered her son.

"Come with you where?" she said in a quivering voice.  
"Away from here… Anywhere…" he whispered.

"I… I…" she didn't know what to say. Just looked at him, breathing heavily.

"You'll help me, won't you?" he asked suddenly and very fearfully, "I need to get out of here. I can't do what he wants me to do for him. I'm failing him. He's tiring of me. He's going to kill me…"

Hermione felt as if she were about to throw up.

"…He'll kill you next. I know it. He's tiring of you. Please. Let's get out of here..."

Hermione said nothing as she began to tremble, staring into his piercing eyes.

"Please, help me, Hermione…"

The hand on her shoulder began to shake violently. So unsteady, as if he was about to collapse on top of her.

"But… where will we go…?"

"Anywhere! Please! Just take me somewhere like you did with Potter and Weasley. Anywhere. I don't care. As long as it's far away from here…"

She felt teardrops hit her body softly. But despite the terrible, terrible fear inside of her, she heard the desperation in his voice, and resolved that she had to help him.

And herself.

This was her chance to help herself.

"If he catches us, he'll kill us…" her voice shook.

"Hermione, he's going to kill us anyway…" Draco sobbed, "Please, just come with me before he gets back! Please…"

He leant his weight on her and began to cry uncontrollably as she slowly turned back over onto her back. She couldn't help but lean into his body heat, and sniff slightly, but she didn't smell that all too familiar scent this time. He must be tired and dirty, she thought, noticing how tousled his usually immaculate hair looked. What had Voldemort done to him to make him so frightened that he was begging her to escape with him?  
He looked at her carefully for a moment, leaning slightly into her and peering directly into her eyes. His emotions this time were imperceptible as the tingling heat washed over her, intermingled with dread at the direness of their situation.

"But what about your mother… your father…?" she finally said, breaking the tense silence.

Draco moved slightly further in towards her, his chest now brushing hers slightly, sending tingles all over her body. She thought she could see the traces of desire in his eyes behind the desperation. He bit down on his lip, a pained expression crossing his face, as if he was thinking hard.

"They'll stand a better chance if they don't come with me," he eventually said, brokenheartedly, "Just please, PLEASE HELP ME. Please come with me. Please, please, please…"

Hermione felt herself lean involuntarily into him, unable to control the forbidden thought crossing her mind of reaching into him and kissing him. As if he could read her mind, she felt him press deeper into her and move his face closer to hers…  
She felt herself being drawn in like a magnet, seeing unfamiliar expressions cross his pale eyes and wondering if he would kiss her like he had before…

She mentally shook herself in frustration at that point, and instead of leaning into kiss his lips like she so badly wanted, she reached out and took his hand with her trembling one.  
"Quickly then," she said hurriedly, "Help me up. Where's the nearest point we can apparate from?"

Draco stared at her for a moment, as if making up his mind, before replying anxiously, "We'll have to make it all the way to edge of the grounds. If we go through the back way, and quickly, we shouldn't be seen. But we need to go NOW… I'm terrified he'll come back…"

"Let's go then!" She cried.

He swiftly held out his wand over Hermione's injured body and rapidly cried in quick succession, "Episkey! Vulnera Sanentur! Reparifors!" evidently in too much of a frenzy to worry about his confidence with his mother's wand when she was in such desperate need of healing, if they were going to escape.  
Hermione instantly felt better as all her wounds, bruises and broken bones healed, the spells had been performed so perfectly, leaving her free of pain and fit to go.  
She jumped hurriedly to her feet and said, "Lead the way! Quickly then!"

Draco kept his wand out in front of him and grabbed her hand tightly with his other one.

"Did you have time to prepare provisions or-"

"Hermione, there's no time, just COME ON," he cried, pulling her frantically along behind him as they raced up the stairs.

Before she knew it, they were running through large, ornate corridor after large ornate corridor, making turns so dramatic and so rapid that Hermione easily would have got lost in the massive mansion if Draco wasn't with her. She didn't even have time to process how she was feeling, as before she knew it they were heading out a large, mahogany set of doors and racing into the night sky in a large, beautiful courtyard. As they raced over the pristine, white pebbly pavement and onto the cool, dewy grass, Hermione's bare feet suddenly felt the freest she had felt in what must have been weeks during her imprisonment.

The night air was fresh and chilly, and cut like a knife into her cheek as she Draco ran and ran, breathing hard under the vast open star-filled sky. She felt so alive as they neared the magical border, feeling the traces of the enchantment reach her senses as she suddenly began to cry, with a hope and longing at the prospect of freedom, and another feeling that was only just beginning as she clutched Draco's hand, as intense and as real as her beating heart.

"Just a few steps further!" Draco cried, digging his fine nails into her skin in what must have been desperation.

Hermione reached out, feeling the magic of the barrier wash her over like a fresh breath of oxygen.

She was finally going to be free she was-

There was a brilliant, blinding flash of green light. She cried out suddenly as something hard and heavy smashed into her, throwing her to the ground and crushing her into the grass.

Hermione screamed as she struggled to throw whatever it was off, something black and billowy and AHHHHH…

She was wrenched over to find the deathly white face of Voldemort sneering into her own, so close she could his warm, sharp breath against her face, his long, pointed nails digging deeply into her skin.

"DRACO! DRACOOO!" she cried violently, trying to push him off her, but his leering smile only widened.

Her heart smashed into a thousand pieces as she turned and saw the crumpled black form lying on the grass next to her, facing her with wide, white dead eyes.

Hermione was too shocked to scream.

She felt Voldemort digs his nails into her face and it wrench it violently back towards him.

"Did you really think you could escape me?" Voldemort breathed dangerously.

At the point Hermione started to howl, her torment was so great.

Draco was…

Draco was…

Oh dear gods no….

She screamed louder than she ever had before until Voldemort hastily put a silencing charm over her mouth.

"Shut up, you idiot girl! You're screaming directly into my ears!"

Hermione's mouth moved silently for a moment, still in shock as she took in the reality of her situation. Draco, her last hope, was gone, and Voldemort was on top of her, most likely preparing to kill her.

She began to cry as she stared into his hideous face and those hideous red eyes. She felt him slowly get off her and adjust his robes, standing over her with a truly gruesome grin.

"Are you going to be quiet now, girl?"

Without waiting for her to express her answer, he waved his wand silently and she felt the silencing charm lift, permitting her to speak.

But she did not speak. Just stared with wide eyes. Into those horrid red jewels. Waiting to die.

Voldemort suddenly burst into laughter as he motioned with his wand towards where Draco's body had lain. Hermione turned, feeling like she was somewhere very far away, very cold, and very empty… but her eyes did not find Draco's corpse.

"Where is he…?" she breathed numbly, "He was just…"

Hermione trailed off and immense dread enter that cold empty space as the terrible realisation hit her. She looked into Voldemort's glinting red eyes and saw the truth written in his awful, awful smile.

The Draco that had escaped with her was in fact Voldemort in disguise.

And she had wanted to kiss him.

"Yes, I wasn't sure if you were ever going to catch on you seemed to be enjoying it so much… But it's one interesting way to get information…" he chuckled.

"You're sick..." She said in horror, before she could help herself.

And for the next few hours she felt nothing but unbelievable agony as he tortured and tortured her on the grass until she fell unconscious.


	15. Chapter 15

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Hermione cracked open her eyes slowly. Even the dull light of the dungeons was too bright for her. Her body ached more intensely and unrelentingly than it ever had before. She felt so tired and in pain that even breathing was an effort. As her eyes adjusted to the light, she saw that there was a figure sitting silently, head in his knees, leaning against the bars of her cell.

Hermione felt like she was going insane. Why was Voldemort here again metamorphosed into Draco Malfoy? Hadn't this already happened last night?

Why was he doing this why was he doing this why was he doing why was he doing this why was he doing this why was he doing this why was he doing this why was he doing this why…

The person who resembled Draco Malfoy, whether it was Voldemort trying to drive her further insane or Draco himself, turned around at the sound of her breathing heavily.

He stared at her uncertainly for a moment, and finally drawled irritably, "You know, I've been sitting here on my bloody arse in this freezing cold, dingy shithole for hours, Granger, waiting for you to finally decide to wake up! Took you long enough!"

Hermione started to feel a little less uncertain. That sounded like the real Draco Malfoy. She couldn't imagine Voldemort saying something that; she was sure he would consider it rude and uncouth. His elegant, well-mannered speech was probably the only thing about him that had any dignity or refinement…

"Well, unlike yourself I have to remain in this 'shithole' all the time. I don't have the luxury to bask about in such grandeur and opulence upstairs like SOME PEOPLE…" she said tiredly but starting to feel more hopeful that she was talking to his usual spoilt, obnoxious self. Or so far, she thought…

Draco hmphed, before smiling at her nastily, "Well, I suppose to SOME PEOPLE, this shithole of a dungeon must be preferable to the shitty Muggle pigsty you were brought up in…"

"Would you just STOP!" Hermione cried, "I was not raised in a pigsty! My parents both had well-paying jobs and we were very well-off. Maybe we weren't showering in money or living in a palace like you, but I was lucky enough to be brought up well…"

She raised her head wearily and shot daggers at him with her eyes. He just smirked like his usual smug self, clearly enjoying that he was getting to her.

"That's right, they tended to people's teeth, didn't they? What did you call them? Dentists? I suppose that must be a high-paying job for filthy low-born Muggle scum."

If it was really him (and it must be at this point – surely Voldemort would know what a dentist was if he was born and raised in the Muggle world), she couldn't believe him AT ALL! One minute he hated her with a passion, then he was passionately kissing her in a heap on the floor of his guest bathroom, and now he was back to hating her with that same passion again and OH MERLIN I PROMISED HIS MOTHER I WOULDN'T TALK TO HIM!

Hermione flushed and let her head fall back down with a thud. Oh no no no. What was she going to do now? She couldn't very well just ignore him…

If it even was him at all… She had to be certain this time…

And suddenly something else dawned on her… Did Draco know that Voldemort had transformed into him? She couldn't imagine that Voldemort would need go to all the trouble of using Polyjuice Potion and she had an inkling the disguise had lasted longer than an hour, and she hadn't seen Voldemort drink anything to potentially top it up (she had never seen him eat or drink anything, for that), but she seriously doubted he was a metamorphagus like Draco's cousin, Tonks, either. No, Voldemort had strongly desired and failed to recruit Tonks at one point, and he wouldn't have appeared to be as captivated or as envious of someone with such amazing natural abilities like hers if he possessed them himself… Not to mention that he surely would make more of an effort to do something about his appearance (he had certainly expressed that he missed his former handsome self)... So, she had to conclude that he was really so practiced and so powerful that he could perform such a long-lasting, detailed and elaborate glamour charm that would enable him to be able to take on the appearance of anyone he wanted… She remembered Harry saying that Dumbledore was so powerful that he could make himself invisible without the use of a potion or cloak, so she felt a mixture of awe and terror as she realised that Voldemort was certainly just as talented and just as capable, if not MORE capable, than Dumbledore, who had been almost one hundred years his senior.

And as Hermione thought about it more, she was forced to accept that Voldemort was DEFINITELY more powerful than Dumbledore had been, if only for the reason being that he was not afraid to use Dark magic… Hermione recalled the words Harry had told her that Voldemort had said to him in their first year at Hogwarts, when he was sharing the back of Professor's Quirrell's head:

'There is no good and evil, there is only power and those too weak to seek it…'

Hermione shuddered as she remembered the reason why Voldemort had transformed into Draco in the first place, not just to amuse himself in some sick, twisted, sadistic game, but as he had told her proudly himself, to obtain information…  
And she realised with horror all the information he had taken so easily from her as she saw that Draco was now standing over her at the entrance to her cell, one hand gripping his mother's wand, and the other sitting impatiently on his hip, a scowl on his face.

No, no, that was definitely Draco Malfoy. It had to be. Voldemort was also clearly a very talented actor and a very clever liar, but she just couldn't imagine him pulling such a spoilt, whiny expression with his stubborn pride. He would consider it weak and very beneath him. The Dark Lord might be childish at times, but he was anything but pampered; both he and Draco were arrogant and vain and acted like they were royalty, but Voldemort had done it tough whereas Draco was just a brat.

"Like I told you last time, I haven't got all bloody day, you know! My life doesn't revolve around your pitiful existence, Mudblood!" Draco drawled.

Nope, Voldemort would definitely not be whining like that. It had to be Draco. Especially since he didn't appear able to read her thoughts this time. She would just have to continue to keep a close eye on him.

And get the opportunity to smell him if he came up close to her, Hermione found herself blushing, to see if that scent was there that had been noticeably absent on Voldemort…

"Graaaangeerrrr…" Draco whined through his teeth, "Are you going to bloody answer me or just going to keep checking me out? I know how incredibly attractive you find me, but we've got more important things for you to do than stare at my good looks all day…"

He smirked gloatingly, clearly thinking he had just said something intelligent and hilarious.

Hermione rolled her eyes. There wasn't even any doubt in her mind now. Hell would have to freeze over before Lord Voldemort would even CONTEMPLATE saying something nauseatingly, idiotically STUPID like that out of his own mouth, let alone Draco Malfoy's. His own pride and vanity and whatever scraps of human dignity he had left would NEVER permit him to do so (or at least she thought – Voldemort had said and done some rather immature things, after all).

At least she could relax now…She hoped…

"EARTH TO GRANGER!", Draco called impatiently, "Stop drooling over me and get up off the floor before I come over there and make you!"

Hermione groaned and shot back, "I am seriously failing to understand how it continues to escape your notice that I am in PAIN after being tortured by your awful Master last night!"

Draco surveyed her in confusion and finally said, "What do you mean? I thought we fixed your ribs?"

She stared back at him in disbelief. Didn't he realise that Voldemort had been torturing her again, and all night, for that? Why else did he think that she couldn't get up?

"He paid me another visit last night, Draco…" she said quietly.  
"But, he couldn't have! You must be going loopy, Granger! All that time spent with Loony Lovegood must be finally having an effect on you!"

"What are you talking about? I'm telling you, he was here again last night!" Hermione protested firmly.

"But he couldn't have been," Draco shot back, "He was…"

"What…?"

"Never mind. It's none of your business, anyway. He certainly wasn't at the Manor and he definitely wasn't in your cell!"

But he ran his eyes over her entire body slowly and carefully, furrowing his brow deeply with deep concern.

Hermione found herself blushing at his scrutinised gaze, and said cautiously, "He and your mother told me he was with you last night too… But I was under the impression that that was much earlier in the evening…"

Draco too began to turn red and said awkwardly:

"It was. Earlier, I mean. I thought he went out afterwards. I saw him leave. But he must have come back…"

He sighed.

"But I would have seen him come back… Or maybe he didn't leave at all. I really don't know. I just…"

He peered into her eyes anxiously. She blinked back at him in confusion.

"It's just that… I must be the one going mad," he said fearfully, "Because I sat outside your cell all night because I couldn't sleep. I was awake the whole time and I didn't see him come in at all…"

"What are you saying, Draco?"

He licked his lips nervously.

"I'm saying that he wasn't here, Granger. But you certainly did a whole lot of screaming and jerking around in your sleep last night…"

Hermione gaped at him, at a loss.

"So, you're saying I dreamt it all then? That he wasn't really here…?"

He looked at her with grim uncertainty and finally said, "No, I'm saying that to my knowledge he wasn't here but that what happened definitely couldn't have been just a dream. Because now that I think about it, those cuts and bruises all over your body definitely not there yesterday. They're fresh, Granger."  
"So you're saying…?"

"I think I'm saying that either Lord Voldemort broke into your mind and tortured you in there, last night, but from a great distance, or he was somehow here the whole time..."


	16. Chapter 16

AN: Chapter 15 has been edited to alter the final line of Draco's to:

"I think I'm saying that either Lord Voldemort broke into your mind and tortured you in there, last night, but from a great distance, or he was somehow here the whole time..."

Hermione did not answer at first. She sat for a while, thinking hard.

The first possibility was that Voldemort had either returned early from his mission or had not left the house at all. Perhaps he had simply charmed Draco into a dreamless sleep and awakened him again when he was finished torturing her.

But if Voldemort had found Draco down in the dungeons with her, would he really just have put him to sleep? She really didn't think that explanation was likely.

She was aware that Voldemort had been able to manipulate Harry's mind from a great distance with false images of Sirius Black being tortured. This had prompted Harry and Dumbledore's Army to enter the Department of Mysteries at the Ministry of Magic, searching in vain for his uncle who was actually safe and well at home. Yes, Voldemort was certainly capable of this feat, but Hermione couldn't help but think that it might only be with Harry, as the two seemed to share a strong connection that appeared related to Harry's lightning bolt scar. Hermione wasn't sure if Voldemort, or any Witch or Wizard, was capable of performing legilimency from a great distance, and believed this power even outranked that of the house elves. If Voldemort was indeed capable of this power, he had to be tapping into some seriously dark and perverted old magic, even more dark and perverted than anything he had performed yet.

There was another explanation that immediately occurred to her that also seemed likely, which was even darker, more perverted and inhuman than the possibility of legilimency at a great distance. Hermione was so immediately frightened of this thought that she suddenly found herself hyperventilating.

What if Voldemort had split his soul again and had made another Horcrux? What if this time it was another body he could inhabit? What if he had severed himself further into another person?

Please, Merlin.

Gods no.

The more she thought about it, the more it seemed like such a likely possibility, and the more anxious she became.

Draco furrowed his brow, watching her closely for a while, before asking, "Is everything alright, Granger?"

Hermione, who had momentarily forgotten he was there, took a sharp inhalation of breath.

"I'm alright," she said quietly.

Draco frowned.

She stared at him for a moment, wishing she could share what she was thinking with him, wishing that he wasn't the enemy, wishing she was anywhere but in her present situation…

"Your mother said that I wasn't supposed to talk to you," Hermione said, even more quietly than her last sentence.

Draco evidently did not know what to say to this. He simply looked longingly into her eyes for a moment, before saying equally quietly, "I waited all night here, just to speak to you."

His face didn't turn the slightest shade of pink this time. He seemed tired. Broken.

She didn't know what to do. The Dark Lord had tortured him last night too. She didn't want him to get him into any more trouble because of her. She feared for his life.

She longed desperately for escape from their situation, but she wasn't sure this Draco, the real Draco, was able to take them away from here. And she wasn't sure if it was a matter of courage or not. Or if it was a matter of trust. Or possibility.

She wondered if he was thinking the same thing. If he had considered it.

She remembered his mother's words one more time and with that she remembered his mother. And how he loved her. She didn't know what his relationship with his father was like, but even if it was strained or abusive, she wasn't sure if he could leave either of them. They were presumably the only people he cared about in the entire world, imprisoned in the hands of the Dark Lord.

But with the terrible thought that Voldemort had possibly either increased his power and learnt to torture others from a distance, or had severed his soul further, Hermione simply couldn't help but continue to speak to Draco. Despite her earlier wish that Voldemort would kill her quickly lest she not betray her loved ones, she realised now that there was a possibility of her living. And escaping.

Though she did not want any harm to come to her newfound friend, she realised that no matter what Voldemort was going to harm him and herself. If she just sat there all that was going to happen was that Voldemort was going to torture herself and Draco until their deaths. The most logical thing to do in this situation then, was to try and escape, with or without her friend.

Hermione did not know if she could trust Draco, but she knew he valued his own safety, and his parents' safety, above of all else. It was written all over his face that he only served the Dark Lord out of fear. Still, she did not know how to bring up the possibility of escape with him, let alone how to do so without Voldemort finding out.

First things, first though. She had to figure out how Voldemort had infiltrated her mind last night if he had supposedly left Malfoy Manor last night.

"I'm not supposed to speak to you, Draco," Hermione began suddenly, "But this is important: Was there anybody here last night, apart from you and I?"

Draco's face relaxed a little, as if he were glad Hermione had come out of her reverie and was now speaking to him.

"There wasn't anyone here except us to my knowledge," he answered.

"No one at all? You didn't hear anything?"

Draco thought for a moment.

"That awful great snake Nagini did slither around for a while, but apart from her…"

"Oh!" Hermione interrupted.

Nagini! Harry had thought she was Horcrux! She must be after all! If there was a part of Voldemort's soul present in her then that would explain how Voldemort was able to torture her from a distance. Which would hopefully rule out the idea that he had made another Horcrux! And oh! She might have found another Horcrux! How she wished she could tell Harry and Ron!

Hermione felt herself becoming teary at the thought of them. How she missed them. How she longed for their company. For their safety. How she longed to be free and reunited with them once again.

She turned and looked at Draco, seeing that he was looking at her with a concerned expression across his face.

Concern out of care for her.

Yes, he cared for.

Maybe even loved her.

She felt about the kiss they had shared, the fear she had felt last night when she thought he had been killed, and the ache in her heart every time he came near her…

And she realised at that moment that she loved him too.

And even if he didn't love her back, she knew in her heart that they had to escape.

They had to.

She would have to risk everything and talk to him…

And it had to be now whilst his Master was away… They might not get another opportunity…

It was now or never.

"Draco?" Hermione breathed.


End file.
